Hell in a Handbasket
by Mikami Kouseki-Sama
Summary: Harry Potter was anything but a normal child, he realizes this as the years progress. Psychopath!Intelligent!Harry Chapter 6: Chasing Rainbows
1. Maeve

**Prologue:**

_Maeve_

He sat a little ways away from the front garden, making absolutely sure his aunt wouldn't berate him for ruining her precious flowers. Emerald greens irises glanced beneath the bright petals to the shaded underbrush and pursed his lips.

There was something there.

He looked around the yard to make sure the neighbor's weren't paying attention to him before he placed small hands on knees covered by ragged blue jeans and pushed himself up. His glasses slipped a bit from the momentum and he wriggled his nose before finally relenting and pushing his glasses up his nose. Making his way over, he pushed a few unruly strands of raven hair out of his verdant eyes and squatted near the plants.

He observed the way the plants moved slightly in the wind and placed his hand within the cluster right beneath the window and pushed them aside. Grey scales met his gaze and he tilted his head, bangs sliding over his forehead, and admired the way the sun glinted off them in silence.

There was a hiss and he let go of the flowers, scooting back a little as a small head peaked out from beneath the foliage. A forked tongue flicked followed swiftly by the rest of the snake, and he blinked. The snake blinked as well before it hissed.

'Stupid human, I should bite him for disturbing my nap…'

His lips parted and he could feel his eyebrows raise to his hairline.

"I can understand you."

The snake sat up, fangs bared within a blackened mouth.

'You speak! A Snake Speaker… are you?'

The child thought for a moment, watching as the snake glided the short distance towards him.

"I suppose I am." He nodded before adding, "Have you ever spoken to my kind before?"

The feather light touching of a forked tongue tasted his exposed knee before the snake answered.

'No, they are thickheaded things that are annoying and smelly.'

A small grin graced the boy's soft features.

"They are aren't they? Am I smelly?"

The snake tilted it's head, never ceasing in it's tasting, reptilian eyes locked onto emerald greens.

'No, you are pleasant. I will not kill you.'

His smile grew wider, eyes sparkling behind his spectacles.

"That's good to hear, I suppose." He paused studying the young snake as intensely as it studied he himself. "My name is Harry, what do you call yourself?"

The snake sat back, it's upper body swaying slightly, it's tongue flickering.

'I am not called anything. Is that odd?'

Harry thought to himself a moment before shaking his head in a negative fashion, "No, but it will be weird calling you snake."

The little snake bared it's fangs in annoyance, it's swaying growing more pronounced.

'Weird? Then I desire a name. I am female by the way.'

He thought a moment more before he smiled, placing a careful hand along the back of the snake's head.

"Maeve."


	2. Slip Through the Cracks

**Chapter One:**

_Slip Through the Cracks_

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns all rights to the Harry Potter Books and Movies._  
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Green eyes watched dispassionately as the shadows of many different persons walked by his little sanctuary. The people who'd taken him in were throwing a party for their overweight child and had invited many for the occasion.

Not that he was invited of course.

He was the black sheep of this 'perfect' family that resided within Number Four Privet Drive. Not that he really minded, he thought they were an odd bunch, what with calling him 'Freak' and 'Boy' at any chance they got. Perhaps they had forgotten his name since he couldn't recall ever hearing it pass their lips in the four years he's lived here.

He couldn't understand it, but then again, he was only five.

'Noisy, noisy they are.' Maeve muttered, annoyed. 'How I wish I could bite at least one…'

Harry felt a smile tug at his lips as he leaned against the cobweb infested wall behind him. He placed a hand against the snake's smooth scales and marveled once again at how smooth she was. She'd grown longer over the year, and had deepened to a sultry looking gunmetal grey, her eyes remaining the same deep onyx when he first met her.

He still didn't know what kind of snake she was, but she was fairly large at a year old, reaching a little over three feet long. He hoped he'd grow soon or else he was sure she'd squish him since she'd refused to leave his side after the first initial contact.

"You shouldn't bite them," he murmured gently stroking along her lithe back. "I'm sure they'd become louder since your teeth are so sharp."

'That will be a willing price to be sure of their stench being removed permanently.' She paused and leaned near his face, her forked tongue flicking against his round cheek. 'I am poisonous, they will not last long, especially since your scent is the only one I care for.'

Harry smiled lightly, she was truly a gem in this dreary life he led. "Thank you, Maeve." He ran his hand along the full length of her body before returning to the crown of her head. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

She rubbed against his chin lightly in a show of affection. 'Probably killed one of them.'

He shrugged, his smile turning into a grin.

"Probably so."

* * *

A horse faced brunette woman stood at the door to her nephew's cupboard, green eyes wide and staring at the wood. Her pale hands shook slightly and she took a step back.

She'd heard hissing.

Was the boy keeping a snake? If so, how was he feeding the thing? When had he acquired the animal? What if he had stolen it from one of the neighbors? What if-?

"Petunia!" Her husband hollered, disrupting her panicked train of thought and making her jump, "Where are you? Dudder's wants to open his presents!"

Petunia Dursley exhaled a breath she didn't know she'd been holding and turned slightly, eyes still on the cupboard door beneath the stairs. "I'm coming, Vernon, I thought I heard someone at the door…!"

She pursed her lips and furrowed her brows, reaching for the latches that kept the freak locked within his make-shift cage. Pulling open the door, she froze, eyes bulging and skin losing the rest of its pallor.

Her nephew sat upon old blankets and sheets, his face hidden within the shadowed recesses of the tiny under the stairs cupboard. On his lap sat a grey snake that stared at her with eyes a very deep black, fangs bared and revealing a black mouth. She'd barely registered what exactly the breed was before she was pulled inside by a strong yet small hand, door shutting quietly with a click.

"Boy! What are you-?" She started indignantly before she was silenced by an angry hiss directly next to her head. She whimpered before looking up into hooded emerald greens and felt herself swallow.

Those weren't the eyes of a normal five year old.

"Why Aunt Petunia…" he started, voice a soft drawl, "what brings you here?"

Petunia shivered, she'd never heard the boy speak, they'd assumed he was mute. She barely repressed a flinch when the black mamba slithered across her arm, and closed her eyes.

Another hiss sounded and she reopened her eyes.

"I…" She swallowed, hoping she wouldn't be bitten, "I heard hissing."

"Hissing you say?" She could hear the smile in his voice and felt her own lips turn into a scowl. "Your ears are lying to you."

"I know what I heard boy!" She sneered, anger getting the better of her, "I saw that snake-!"

"Maeve."

She paused, confused in her anger and fear, mingling and simmering. "What?"

"Her name is Maeve."

Petunia blinked, eyes finally adjusted to the dim light from the door crack and nearly blanched. The mamba was currently situated around the child's neck, as if it were a sort of accessory. It's eyes were on her, unmoving, and she flinched.

She missed Harry's grin.

"She won't do anything if you leave her alone." The boy softly continued, stroking the smooth scales idly, "She's very sweet."

Petunia highly doubted that and moved to sit up, but the quiet hiss from the snake made her stop and look at the boy. His eyes shone a deep forest green, almost black in the darkness, hair an inky mass that fell over one eye in an eerie way. She noticed his skin was a pale pallor, almost ivory and she inwardly winced.

Harry tilted his head closer to Maeve's and listened to her near silent hisses that only he could hear, and allowed his grin to grow into a smile. He noticed the woman before him stiffened at the gesture, and narrowed his eyes a bit.

"You don't believe me." He guessed correctly, eyes trained on the tick in his aunt's cheek, "I don't care either way to be honest, you are beneath me."

Petunia's eyes widened in anger, her face flushing and she moved to slap the child when his chilly stare stopped her. She glanced to her right and noticed the mamba was rearing, fangs glinting dangerously in the dim light.

"You are beneath me, Aunt." He repeated, pale hand moving to cup the woman's face. "And now I give you a choice." He ignored the woman's eyes narrowing in favor of examining his pale digits on her lightly tanned cheek. "Allow me a bit of freedom outside, or I will let Maeve bite you and then I'll bury you under the floorboards of this cupboard."

"You dare to threaten me boy?" She hissed indignantly, though from the look in the small child's eyes she knew he was deathly serious.

"It is not a threat." Harry replied softly, eyes meeting hers and making her flinch back at the sheer amount of malice he held there. "It's a promise."

She saw the grin this time, and paled even more.

* * *

"Petunia!" Vernon Dursley yelled from the kitchen, his great mustache quivering from the spittle. "What's taking so long?"

There was a pause, not unlike the past ten minutes in which he'd had to listen to his son's moaning about the world being unfair to he and his presents. He was just about to get up when his wife appeared, sallow completion ignored until he saw what her right hand gripped. The small hand of a child was within her own, paler than even she at the moment, but it wasn't just any child.

It was the Boy.

"Why-?" he began, eyes narrowed and face already purple.

"It's nothing, Vernon." She interrupted, looking anywhere but at the child by her side. "I just thought the Boy- Harry would like to spend some time with Dudder's and his friends before going to school next year."

Vernon sneered, his great body heaving a breath at hearing the boy's name said in his presence. Petunia was acting oddly and he wanted to know why. He'd bet it had to do with the freakish child standing before him.

"What'd you do to her, Boy?" The Dursley Patriarch growled, jowls quivering in barely restrained rage. "I know you did something, you and your freakish parents are all the same. You'll stop at nothing to disrupt our normal lives, won't you Boy?"

Harry for what it was worth, blinked large green eyes at the mountainous man before him. He gripped his aunt's fingers tighter in warning and lifted his chin in perceptively towards her husband, his other hand patting the slight bulge beneath his oversized sweater.

Petunia's eyes widened as she caught sight of movement beneath the boy's clothes. She swallowed and turned back to her husband. "It will be good for him to interact with people now and again, won't it Vernon? And besides, he's far too pale to be seen as normal, even by sickly standards."

Vernon pondered that for a moment, his beady eyes never leaving the small child who stood docile next to his aunt in the clean kitchen. She did have a point, though he was loathe to have the little freak child in sight for too long. It wouldn't hurt so long as he didn't do anything too… abnormal.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, a giant flesh covered ball skidded into the room. Or rather, Harry corrected, his whale of a cousin waddled into the room, face a blotchy and ugly red from a tantrum just ready to happen. Watery blue eyes locked onto him and they narrowed, sneer already in place before Petunia stepped into the line of sight.

"Come now Dudders, don't you want to open your presents?" The woman cooed, her nervousness seemingly melting away at the sight of her 'little angel'.

Dudley Dursley cheered, instantly forgetting his mute cousin in favor of rushing back to where the other children were. Vernon followed, a careless glance passing over the Potter child, his heavy footsteps fading with the sounds of children playing.

"Very good, Aunt," Harry murmured, lips barely moving as he allowed his hand to fall from Petunia's, following after his uncle. "I promise I'll be a good boy."

Safe to say, the woman could almost taste the sarcasm in that statement.


	3. Crossing the Rubicon

**Chapter Two:**

_Crossing the Rubicon_

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns all the rights to the Harry Potter books and movies.

**A/N:** Thank you for the reviews and favs, they make writing all the more enjoyable.

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He sat quietly at the table in the corner furthest from the door, blatantly ignoring the children seated in front of him. They chattered incessantly and gave him a headache which he blamed on the fact that where he resided was relatively quiet.

Relatively being they key word.

In the past year Petunia had allowed him to wander about outside, granted he was only able to move around the premises of Number Four Privet Drive. Not much freedom, but then again, they didn't bother him, nor did they make him do anything that was in sight of the neighbors. He was more or less an extra spot at mealtimes, and he didn't mind that.

They were just there to take care of him, no more, no less.

"Harry?" A soft voice called, barely heard over the din of the kindergarten classroom. "Can you pass the red paint? I-if you're done with it of course."

His eyes moved to the little girl seated directly in front of him. She was fair haired and had a healthy tan to her skin, freckles covering the bridge of her nose and cheeks in a hazardous fashion. Baby blue eyes shifted around in her face nervously and she wrung her hands.

Her name was Elizabeth Murphy.

He glanced down to his paper, taking note that it was still a crisp white and placed his hand near it. His skin was quite close to the same color, the scant amount of time he'd spent in the sun was still not enough to give him enough color to be considered healthy.

Fair enough considering he spent his free time locked in a cupboard.

"Didn't you hear Eliza, Harry?" A snobbish voice said, prompting him to look to a small brunette on his right. "Stop hogging the paint and pass it over!"

His lips turned in a minute frown that could pass as a pout, and looked away from the pigtailed bespeckled girl in favor of looking to the red paint can near his left hand. He considered a moment before dipping his fingers in it. His eyes shifted again to the girl and allowed his lips to pull into a smile.

"I'm using it, Victoria." He made a show of moving his fingers around the paper in no clearly recognizable pattern. "As you can see."

The little girl bristled, she hated people calling her by her full first name, and Harry knew it. He knew it well and said it whenever he spoke to her. He just couldn't bring himself to butcher such an exquisite name, he'd told her.

She'd asked him what the word exquisite meant and he'd sneered at her stupidity.

"Don't call me that!" She huffed, cheeks turning a fiery red in her anger. "It makes me feel like an old lady!"

He was quiet a moment, fingers returning to the paint pail for another coat.

"You're older than me though."

The tears that sprung in her eyes were enough to make him smile in contentment, that is until the final member of the table sought out to make their presence known. His fingers paused an inch away from the paper, features freezing in a mask.

"That's not very nice, Harry." The sandy haired boy said, hazel eyes trained on the raven-haired male's. "The teachers told us to share, and not tease our friends."

Harry sneered. Louis Frasier was a self righteous, pompous prick who only wanted to look nice in front of females and adults. He on the other hand knew what the boy was really like, and refused to speak in front of the latter, for obvious reasons.

His smile seemed to melt away as he turned to look at the other boy, green eyes narrowing as he placed his hand palm flat on his paper with a barely audible squish. He watched as the other boy looked away shortly after, cheeks tinted a light pink in nervousness.

Harry glanced to the side when he noticed the teacher; Mrs. Hansen, was making her way towards them. He sniffed and pushed the paint can towards Elizabeth and turned his hand a little, making a red fan on the paper. His lips parted slightly and he pretended to be absorbed in his painting when she stood directly behind him.

He didn't like people behind him.

"What a pretty fan, Harry." Her soft blue eyes met his when he turned, barely refraining from scowling at her. "But is red the only color you want in your picture?" His eyes narrowed when she looked away to reach for the blue finger paint. "Maybe a pretty blue?"

When he remained silent, she just smiled and smoothed his hair a little before he moved away in disgusted annoyance. It didn't show on his face, but in his body language and Fiona Hansen knew it would be so from what the boy's relatives had said of him. He was, according to a Mrs. Petunia Dursley, an antisocial delinquent that needed to be reformed in his ways.

She thought the woman was exaggerating quite a bit.

Sure the child wouldn't speak in front of adults, she blamed that fact on the sickly pallor of his skin that showed neglect. She'd seen his lips moving when near some of his classmates, but he always straightened and silenced when an adult came too near, and she knew he would have the sweetest voice for a boy his age.

"Mrs. Hansen!" Fiona turned towards the voice, thoughts of Harry pushed to the back of her mind, and smiled for Louis. "Harry was being stingy with the paint."

Chestnut eyebrows rose to her hairline. "He did?" She turned to the Potter child. "Were you being stingy with the paint, Harry?"

The raven-haired boy remained silent and shook his head in a negative before pointing to where Elizabeth was sitting. The little girl blanched and flushed brilliantly at the attention and slouched in her seat.

"H-he gave me the p-paint when he was d-done, Mrs. Hansen." She squeaked out, wide eyes focused on the green eyed child before her, and Fiona's brows furrowed.

That wasn't a normal reaction for such a small child.

"Don't try and take his side, Eliza!" Victoria Wesley sneered as she turned to glare at the dark-haired boy in obvious dislike.

"Take his side?" Fiona asked, confusion thick in her voice. "Why would you be taking sides when you're all working together?"

The little blonde flushed even deeper and whimpered, clearly unable to form a sentence at this point.

"That's because she has a cru-!" Victoria started but was silenced by Elizabeth's hand over her mouth. Brown eyes met watery blue and she pulled the girl's hand away but didn't say anymore.

Louis however, did have something more to say.

"Mrs. Hansen!" he whined, hazel eyes trained on the still silent Harry. "Aren't you gonna punish him?"

Fiona tsked and placed her hands on her hips, frowning mildly at the sandy-haired child. "Now Louis," She ignored the boy's flinch at her tone, "that's not nice, it was already enough to tell me that you thought he wasn't sharing. But if Elizabeth says he shared with her, then it means that he did."

Louis for his part, pouted, cheeks puffed out in anger and arms crossed.

Fiona sighed and brushed her hand lightly through the child's hair and said before she moved onto the next table, "Be nice to each other, or I'll think that you don't want to be friends."

She didn't know how right she was.

* * *

Louis really didn't like that Potter kid.

"He's really weird." He complained to his friends, Michael Roberts and Justin Blake. "You notice he never talks in front of the teachers right?"

"Yeah." Justin said as he took a cookie from Michael's Chips Ahoy bag when the raven- haired boy wasn't paying attention. "Why?"

"Why?" Louis repeated, frowning. "The stuff he says-!"

"He talks?" Michael asked, clearly surprised as he took a bite of his ham sandwich which had no crusts of course.

"Yeah, he does." Louis conceded, hazel eyes trained on his tuna fish sandwich in his lunchbox. "And the stuff he says really gets me mad. I don't get why Eliza likes him!"

"Eliza?" Justin wondered aloud, peanut butter, jelly, and bread crumbs surrounding his mouth. "That really scared girl?"

Louis nodded, "She's kinda ok when she's not talking."

Michael noticed his friend's blush and grinned slyly, elbowing the sandy-haired boy in the ribs. "You like Eliza."

"I do not!"

Safe to say, his blush intensified.

* * *

"I'm sorry Maeve, but you're too big to hide under my clothes any more." Harry said as he looked into his backpack at the four and a half foot mamba currently curled at the bottom atop a hot water bottle.

'I don't care,' she muttered sulkily as she moved to taste his face. 'I would rather be in here than back at that place.'

"I know," Harry said, reaching within the bag's warm confines to pet the mamba gently. "But right now, I'm bearing it." He said nothing as Maeve slithered up his arm and draped herself around his small shoulders. "Only until they outlive their usefulness."

'Their usefulness?' She questioned, tongue flicking lazily against the boy's pale cheek. 'Am I useful?'

"Very." His line of sight was trained on the Frasier boy sitting at one of the lunch tables beneath the hill that he sat on.

'How so?' Maeve asked, curious. 'I haven't done anything, yet.' She paused a moment. 'Except scare the horse woman many moons ago.'

"A year…" Harry murmured, voice nostalgic. "That was fun, wasn't it?"

The mamba wound herself through shoulder length ink black strands and stilled atop his crown. 'Yes it was. Will we do it again soon?'

"You could say that." He answered vaguely, green eyes flickering in the shade of the tree that he sat under.

'Do tell!' Maeve hissed excitedly, relishing in the child's body heat against her underbelly.

"It's a surprise," Harry chuckled, running his right hand along her scales again. "I know you just love surprises."

Maeve moved and allowed her head to dangle in front of his eye sight, tongue flicking against his glasses. 'That is true. They make me excited.' She neglected to mention that being excitable (However rare this was) made Harry to release a musk that she relished.

"Excited you say?" She caught a small sliver of that delicious scent and paused, onyx eyes trained on emerald. "Then I'm sure you'll be ecstatic." The scent vanished and she found herself wanting more, wanting this surprise almost as much as she wanted the Dursleys dead.

Almost being the keyword.

'When will this surprise happen?' She wanted to know, needed to know.

His eyes flicked away from reptilian when the bell sounded, signaling the end of lunch. Louis was laughing and gesturing wildly with his hands to his friends and he looked back to the mamba situated in front of him.

"Today."

* * *

Louis was in a right foul mood.

Eliza wouldn't stop staring at Harry Potter and he didn't like that. Why did the girl fancy such a mean boy? Sure, he'd seen other girls glance at the green eyed child, blushing and wide eyed, but he didn't see what drew them to him. He was pale in a sickly sense and his hair was long, falling into his eyes on occasion.

He watched in annoyance as Harry brushed away his bangs, emerald greens focused on his paper before him. A pink tongue sat between two rows of straight white teeth and he scrunched his nose up. The boy was girly in all of his actions, he was really at a loss at how he'd drawn so many towards him, it just didn't make se-.

"Problem there, Louis?" He stiffened as a silky smooth voice broke through his thoughts. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you like me?"

Honeyed hazel met emerald green and he flushed in anger at the boy's insinuation, slamming his hand down he sneered. "Now look here, Potter-!" He blinked suddenly when the feeling of paint drenched his right side.

He blinked at the mass of lime green paint decorating his skin.

"Oh my- Louis!" Mrs. Hansen gasped, rushing over amidst soft giggles. "Are you alright?"

He nodded, embarrassed tears making their way down his reddened cheeks.

"I'll need someone to accompany Louis to the nurse's office, would anyone like to volunteer?" Fiona asked sweetly, at a loss to how this happened.

There was silence before a pale hand rose.

"Thank you, Harr-."

"No way!" Louis nearly yelled, paint flicking on Harry as he turned to look at the boy. "I don't want him anywhere near me!"

"Louis!" Fiona gasped indignantly. "Apologize to Harry!"

"No!" He rushed out of the classroom after that.

He missed the calculating look sent after him.

* * *

_That was stupid_, Louis thought to himself as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, _I don't know why I acted like that._

He didn't want to go to the nurses office while his face was blotchy and red from tears, it was embarrassing for a boy to cry. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair and grimaced at the slimy and wet texture from the paint. He'd need to wash this off of himself before doing anything else.

As he reached for the water dial, a voice gave him pause and he turned, mouth already drawn into a scowl.

"Hello Louis."

Harry Potter stood before the door, tattered backpack situated on the floor by his feet. Shaded emerald greens were set on him, flecks of paint dotting his pale skin and dark hair.

"What do you want, Potter?" Louis sneered, hazel eyes narrowed and glaring.

The raven- haired boy said nothing as his face remained eerily blank, eyes unmoving.

Louis gave a snort and turned back around to begin washing the paint from his person. The boy was creepy and he didn't want to deal with him more than he had to. Actually, he'd probably be better off if he'd never even met the kid. Glancing to the right of the mirror, he opened his mouth, ready to give the shorter boy a piece of his mind-

When he noticed he was no longer there.

Curious, he started to turn around and was immediately slammed into the mirror in front of him. He yelled, and pushed away from the shards of the bathroom mirror, blood dripping into his vision in steady tendrils. What just-?

"Louis, you should really go to the nurse's office. It looks bad." A voice murmured from below, and he focused on it, tears and blood blurring his vision. "Do you want me to help you?"

He gave a shallow nod, a sob escaping from his lips as he cradled his hand in his hand. He heard hissing shortly after, and he paused, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve and saw a snake looking at him from Harry's backpack.

"Why is there…?" He started, eyes widening before his legs were swept out from under him, head colliding with the linoleum sink with a sickening crack.

"I'm sorry, Louis," Harry whispered from above him as the sandy-haired boy moaned on the bathroom floor. "It seems as though I do more harm than good."

The pain in his head was too great and he could do nothing to reply.

"Louis…" the raven-haired boy sung, the feeling of something slithering up his body muted due to the pain in his head. "I've got someone I'd like you to meet."

Louis merely turned his head to the side, consciousness fading in and out.

"Her name is Maeve."

The last thing he felt was the piercing of two sharp pinpricks in his skin as everything went black.

* * *

He swung his feet back and forth as he sat atop the bed in the nurse's office, waiting for the nurse to give him a clean shirt. He'd washed the paint away from his hair and face, leaving his skin damp and hair dripping. His green eyes watched the old woman silently, wondering.

If she enjoyed the sight of blood as much as he found did.

Maeve was simply ecstatic at being able to be useful to him. He didn't understand it, and he would never be able to.

Probably.

"Here's your shirt, Mr. Potter," the elderly woman, Nurse Jacobs said, handing him a crisp white patient's shirt. "Now is there anything else you need before I send you back to class young man?"

Harry slipped the shirt on and tilted his head to the side, pondering.

"Have you seen, Louis?" He queried, curiosity coloring his tone.

"Louis who, dear?" The old woman asked, clearly amazed that the boy was speaking.

"Louis Frazier, my classmate who left the room in a hurry to come here."

"No one by that name has come here," She replied, a little worried herself. "Perhaps he stopped by the toilet?"

Harry looked to the door, face blank as he answered:

"Maybe he did."


	4. Crocodile Tears

**Chapter Three:**

_Crocodile Tears._

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns all rights to the Harry Potter books and movies.

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"Hello, Harry." The middle-aged woman said, smile in her voice as he stepped through the door. "How are you today?"

The seven year old blinked, face blank as he paused to consider her question. Truthfully, he didn't feel anything, but saying that wouldn't stop the sessions from continuing, quite the opposite actually. He made a sound in the back of his throat and moved to sit on the cushioned bench before the shrink, saying:

"Normal."

She made an 'Ah' noise before scribbling something in her notepad.

"And what is normal associated with?" She asked, as she watched him remove the tattered brown backpack from his back to the floor next to the bench he was situated upon.

Harry watched the woman, Agetha Florentine, and looked to his backpack. Maeve had grown even more over the year, reaching almost five and a half feet in length, and he'd had to place an extra hot water bottle in there to keep her warm and content. Emerald greens looked back to his shrink, considering, and weighing his answer.

"Apathetic."

If she showed any surprise that he'd known what that word meant at such a young age, it was well hidden as she scribbled in her notepad again amidst the soft crackling of the tape recorder on her desk. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, storm grey eyes roving over his face for any form of emotion. He was sure she'd found none, as per usual, since she sometimes liked to observe him for one reason or another.

It was routine, and he cared not to break it.

"Now, Harry." She began, placing her right leg over the left. "I want you to tell me what you felt when you first heard of Louis Frasier's passing."

He'd felt satisfaction. Vivid and sublime as it was.

He looked to his right hand and noticed his nails were getting quite long. He needed to cut them soon, though Maeve enjoyed it when he scratched her with longer nails. Looking back to Ms. Florentine, his lips parted.

"Shock."

Another scribble.

"And why is that?"

He looked to his hands, wringing them in a false show of nervousness. He didn't know why the woman had constantly revisited the topic of death. He was by no means bothered by the fact that he was a murderer.

He rather enjoyed it, the blood at least.

"I felt as though…" He paused, seemingly searching for words as he bit his bottom lip. "I could have been better friends with him. I could tell he didn't really like me."

* * *

_He'd gone to his locker after promising Mrs. Hansen he'd bring Louis to the nurse's office, plucking the bright yellow rubber gloves he'd swiped from the janitor earlier in the week from beneath a picture book. Stuffing them in his back pocket, he shouldered his book bag, careful not to jostle Maeve too much, and shut his locker quietly._

_He followed the quickly fading lime green foot prints to the closest boy's bathroom and slipped inside, locking the door behind him. The boy was a mess, he observed, placing the gloves quietly on his hands and placing his backpack on the floor before addressing the sandy-haired boy._

"_Hello Louis." He watched as the boy paused, turning to glare at him with hazel eyes darkening in malice. He really didn't like him, Harry realized, but gave nothing away as his face remained blank._

_Wouldn't want to scare him, would we?_

"_What do you want, Potter?" Louis spat, turning back around and dismissing him when he didn't answer._

_He found at that moment, he didn't like to be dismissed._

_He slipped behind the other boy, crouching slightly so as not to be seen in the mirror's reflection, and waited. As soon as Harry saw Louis turn slightly towards the door he struck, pushing the unaware boy into the mirror with such a force it shattered. He stooped then as the boy yelled and watched transfixed as red rivulets of blood slipped down his face._

_He wanted to see more of the sanguine liquid._

"_Louis, you should really go to the nurse's office. It looks bad." He murmured, green eyes tracking the path the blood made down Louis' cheek. "Do you want me to help?"_

_He turned when he noticed his bag had fallen, Maeve slithering out and looking to the child standing before her Harry. 'What's this? What's this? Is it my surprise?'_

_He didn't answer in favor of realizing that Louis could still speak._

"_Why is there…?" He deemed the rest unnecessary to listen to and swept the boy's legs out from under him, relishing the sound his head made when it hit the sink. He crouched over the hazel-eyed boy and watched as the blood pooled beneath Louis's head._

"_I'm sorry, Louis," Harry whispered as he examined the swiftly growing red pool from his position. "It seems as though I do more harm than good."_

_He ignored the boy's moaning in favor of watching Maeve slither closer, careful not to touch the red puddle. She looked ecstatic and he knew he would do this again._

"_Louis…" He sang, soft voice rising a pitch as the mamba moved about atop the semi-conscious boy's body. "I've got someone I'd like you to meet."_

_Harry watched as Louis turned his head and he nodded._

"_Her name is Maeve."_

_A smile made it's way to his lips as Maeve struck, fangs piercing the skin of the child's neck._

_He was content._

_

* * *

_

"And why do you think he didn't like you, Harry?" Agetha Florentine droned, drawing him gently from his memory to the present.

He frowned, feeling a faint annoyance at being interrupted from one of his favored memories before it passed as fleetingly as most of his other emotions. He looked to the shrink and exhaled loudly through his nostrils, showing mild displeasure.

"The things he said…" Harry began, and at her expectant look, he elaborated, "his mannerisms, the way he looked at me." He made a show of running a hand through his unruly hair. "I knew he'd never want to be friends with me."

And neither did he, which was why the boy was dead.

He lay back against the soft cushioning of the patient's bench amidst the soft scribbling of Agetha's pen on her notebook, and allowed his arm to hang off the side. He brushed the metal latches of his backpack absently, nails dragging against the tattered leather of the container. He felt the bag wriggle as the graying woman's voice came to him.

"I see." she murmured gently, warm grey eyes meeting his. "If the subject tires you, we'll talk about something else." She gave a short pause as if considering. "How about your new school?"

He looked away from her then, gaze fixed on a spot somewhere to her left. Petunia had brought it upon herself to transfer him to a different school, her excuses being that if three children had been killed, what was stopping the murderer from attacking her… dear nephew. He'd noticed she'd left Dudley in the school amidst curious looks from the staff, and he couldn't stop the little grin that touched his lips.

She knew.

"It's fine," He answered after a moment, verdant greens looking to the woman at his side, "I'm a little nervous being in a new place, but," he allowed a small smile, "I hope I can make new friends."

Lies.

Agetha paused at that moment, a little dazed from the child's angelic smile. Shaking her head slightly to clear the fogginess from her brain, she looked to Harry, a smile of her own taking residence on her face.

"That's good to hear, Harry," she started, voice as soothing as she could make it, "are there any concerns that you have before we revisit the previous topic?"

"No," he said, making his voice as uncertain as possible to test his acting ability.

"Are you sure, Harry?" The graying woman asked, coaxingly. "Nothing will be held against you here." She continued, placing a hand over his.

Harry froze almost as soon as Agetha's flesh touched his, already forgetting it was an experiment. He loathed being touched, almost as much as someone being behind him. He fought to keep his face blank as he removed himself from her reach, and felt his lips pull into a small frown.

Disgusting.

"I'm sure," he answered after a moment, green eyes warily trained on the shrink, "do go on, Mrs. Florentine."

The woman paused, seemingly unaffected by the boy's silent rejection to her touch, and took in a breath, flipping though Harry's file. It wasn't an overly large file, in fact, it was a little on the small side, considering he wouldn't talk for the better of two months. Exhaling loudly, she allowed the manila folder to flop open on her knees, a young red haired child smiling brightly up at her.

"Well then, Harry," she started, smoothing the photo a bit, "do you remember, Anthony Roberts?"

She saw the boy shift slightly, more than a little perturbed by how the small child reacted when he heard that name. Of course she knew the green eyed child was different in his small range of emotions, but there was no mistaking the look on that pale face.

Complete and utter bliss.

"Why yes…" Harry answered slowly, eyes glazed over as he stared at a point on the wall somewhere over her head. "Yes I do."

Trying to ignore the slow smile creeping it's way onto his face, she coughed lightly, scribbling in her notepad. "What did you feel when you first heard of…" she paused, unwilling to say the deceased boy's name more than she had to, "his passing?"

The closest thing to happiness since meeting Maeve.

"Relief," he murmured, looking to his backpack again, wondering if Maeve was awake. "he was always mean to me, moreso than Louis."

* * *

_It was by pure coincidence that he'd met the boy in that empty lot._

_He'd brought along Maeve for some fresh air and he recognized the normally cheerful red head kicking up sand and dragging along a two by four behind him. He was alone he noticed first, his cheek was bruised he noticed second, and there were tear tracks on his face._

_He felt his lips tug upward._

_He straightened from his crouch, pulling his backpack up with him, and approached Anthony. He allowed the smile to fade from his lips, and noticed the boy didn't notice his approach as he was lost in apparent despair._

"_Anthony…" he started, stopping a few paces away from the now frozen boy before him, "Anthony Roberts, right?"_

_Jade green irises locked onto emerald when he turned and Harry noticed the taller child's eyes darken with dislike. He resisted the urge to grin as the red head faced him fully, mouth in a near scowl and eyes slit._

"_Harry Potter…" He trailed off, heard cocked to the side, "What are you doing here, weirdo?"_

_He'd noticed that more people were starting to pick on him, compliments of his overweight cousin and his band of mischief-maker's. He kept his face blank and squinted through the orange light from the sunlight to the shaded area of the boy's face._

"_A walk," he answered, looking around beneath his overgrown bangs, "how about you?"_

_Anthony huffed, rubbing a gritty hand along his uninjured cheek, eyes still fixated on the other's. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he looked away from the raven-haired boy, dismissing him and completely missing the way Harry's eyes narrowed._

_Mistake number one._

"_Me too…" the red head mumbled, "I guess."_

_The smaller child moved closer discreetly, eyes watching the freckled child closely. Stopping two feet away, Harry focused on the darkly bruised cheek._

"_It looks bad…" he murmured, lifting his hand as if to touch, "what happened?"_

_He watched Anthony flinch away when he noticed how close the other boy was, and slapped Harry's hand away, sneer firmly in place. The smaller boy stared at his hand silently, blatantly ignoring the insults being thrown his way. He'd touched him._

_Mistake number two._

_He looked again to the taller boy, keeping his face blank as Anthony spouted off some nonsense about him being even weirder than the rumors said. He allowed his bag to slip gently to the ground before he made to move closer, causing the red head to pause in his rant._

"_What do you want?" he spat, dropping the two by four in favor of moving away. "I don't want you near me, you're creepy."_

_Harry, tuned whatever else was said or done out, eyes drawn to the carelessly discarded piece of lumber. He grinned._

_Mistake number three._

"_Hey, Anthony…" he started, kneeling down to grasp the wood, "do you remember Louis?"_

_Anthony said nothing, the faint clicking of his teeth being the only sound in the lot. He knew the boy was confused, he'd planned on it to knock the boy off kilter. _

"_Yeah…" He answered slowly, jade greens focusing on the two by four now in the pale boy's hands. "Why?"_

_Harry looked up from examining the item in his hands, eyes alight with orange fire and stood fluidly._

"_No reason, really…" the small child said, moving to the red head in the next moment, "I just wanted to know if you wanted to know a secret."_

_From the way Anthony was looking at him, Harry was sure the boy didn't want to know. He saw more than heard the boy swallow and he swung, lips twitching slightly when the wood connected with bone. Standing over the now bleeding child, he felt a rush of excitement, and felt warmth flooding his cool cheeks._

_He noticed Anthony was staring at him, and he stared back, face still._

"_Wha…?" He watched as the red head turned to his side sluggishly to attempt to crawl away._

_He couldn't have that._

"_Leaving so soon, Anthony…?" He leaned down and plucked the boy's arm up from the ground then placed his foot on his shoulder. A pause before he pressed down and pulled harshly._

_A whimper, a grunt, and he knew he'd dislocated the child's shoulder._

"_Now, now," he whispered, dropping the limb and moving towards Anthony's legs, "I haven't told you my secret yet."_

_Tilting his head to the side, he watched as tears and blood intermingled in the dry sand of the lot and prodded the backs of the boy's knees. He saw the boy flinch, then struggle to move away and he felt his right eye twitch._

_He didn't learn._

"_I'm trying to be civil, Anthony." He said, moving the two by four above the red head's legs. "But you're making it difficult."_

_He figured from the escalating whimpers, the boy couldn't speak. Shrugging lightly, he lifted the lumber and swung down heavily, relishing in the feeling of ligaments being ripped, and the scream that tore through the evening._

_He glanced to the opening of the lot and sighed, moving towards his backpack amidst muffled sobs and short screams. Opening the top, he allowed Maeve to flow out along the dusty ground and turned back to the broken boy._

"_Since you're obviously in a rush to get away from me," he began with a sniff as he felt his lips turn upwards, "I'll just tell you my secret, I suppose."_

_He watched as the mamba flicked her tongue at Anthony's ankle before looking to Harry for the go ahead. Lifting his hand, he allowed a smile to dance across his face._

"_I killed Louis." he saw Anthony's head turn towards him, and continued. "And you know what else?"_

_The silence was deafening as he brought his hand down._

"_I'm going to kill you too."_

_

* * *

_

"Harry," Agetha began in a somewhat shaky voice, "while Anthony may not have been the nicest of people to be around, there is still no reason to feel happiness over someone's death."

He blinked at her, emerald greens fixated on the mole above her right eyebrow. He'd never experienced the feeling of happiness, the closest thing being contentment. Technically he hadn't been happy over the fact that Anthony had been beaten black, blue, and bloody.

He'd been content, but that wasn't something he was willing to divulge.

"I understand," he whispered, voice timid and small as though he'd been properly reprimanded, "but that's how I truly felt at that time…"

His eyes moved to encompass the entirety of the woman's face and he watched her face relax as she sighed and ruffled through the manila folder again. It was quiet for a few moments and he looked to the clock, noting that he had about 30 minutes left in the hour long session. Toeing his backpack listlessly, he looked back to Agetha when she spoke, voice weary.

"I've noticed that in your old school, you've been picked on, why is that, Harry?"

He sat up a bit straighter and schooled his face into something resembling a porcelain mask. Quite honestly, he didn't know why he was picked on all that frequently. He suspected the problem stemmed from how he was treated at Privet Drive, and the fact that Dudley had indeed been in the same grade as he.

Asinine is what it was.

"I'm not sure," he started, allowing his facial features to relax into something a bit more natural, "I never felt the need to stop and ask them, seeing as they seemed to get violent if I was alone."

Her eyes filled with pity and he refrained from sneering by sheer will alone. He didn't appreciate being pitied, and he wouldn't tolerate it for very long. His patience was similar to a thin fragile thread already frayed to the breaking point.

"Did you report it to your teachers?" Agetha asked, gray eyes taking note of how small the boy was for the umpteenth time.

Harry had in fact considered it many a time, but had rejected the notion simply for the fact that he knew a teacher's scolding wouldn't stop the bullying. There was only so far a teacher's influence could go when surrounded constantly by your peers.

"I felt it was a waste of time," he paused, eye catching the slight wriggling of his backpack, "a waste of breath to tell of one problem when there were so many that were going to happen in the future."

He watched the woman close her eyes, bottom lip worried between her teeth, before she wrote in her notepad again. Amidst the soft scribbling and scratching, he heard her soft halted breaths as if she were doing everything to keep her tears at bay. Closing his eyes he shook his head.

Women were overemotional.

"To not even feel comfortable enough to confide in a teacher…" Agetha murmured, voice tense and scratchy, "how… did you feel being alone within a school with no one to turn to?"

He thought a moment, and found he hadn't expected people outside the Dursley's to treat him any different. It was a waste of energy to believe otherwise.

"I felt the same why I do now," he said, emerald green clashing with storm grey, "apathetic."

The psychiatrist placed a hand over her mouth, and looked away, eyes glassy and unfocused. This was not the way a normal child should behave, granted the boy was highly intelligent for his age, but still.

How could become used to the way people treated him?

"That's not a healthy way of living, Harry," she sighed, eyes looking to another photo in the boy's folder, "if you would tell people of your problems, I'm sure adults would help you."

He highly doubted that and closed his eyes, suddenly a bit tired. The topic was beginning to drone on and he was starting to feel bored. He almost wished she'd ask more questions but then he'd have to answer, and he wasn't in the mood to answer.

"I know I've asked you a lot of things over the past few months," Agetha began, lifting a photo out of it's beige container, "but I haven't been able to address the topic of Helena Carrows."

His eyes snapped open and fixed on the woman before him.

"What about her?" he asked monotonously, face falling into it's familiar impassive mask.

Agetha noticed this and scribbled in her notepad before speaking, "How did you feel when you heard of her passing?"

An exhale through the nose, an inhale through his slightly parted lips, and he pondered. Quite honestly, he'd had no pent up aggravation towards the black haired girl. She'd just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Resentment," he murmured softly, green eyes looking to the backpack on the ground.

Eyebrows rose and she brushed away stray wisps of grey and caramel, crossing her legs as she looked at the tiny seven year old. "And why is this?"

He made a show of closing his eyes.

"She was one of the few who didn't call me names."

* * *

"_Harry?"_

_He'd stiffened then, Maeve twisting around in plain view to see why Harry had stopped moving. Onyx eyes locked onto warm brown and she flicked her tongue out to taste._

'_She smells sweet,' the mamba said, obviously astonished that one of the smelly humans, besides Harry, could be tolerable in smell._

_Green eyes watched the little girl with long black hair in plaited braids unblinkingly. She'd seen Maeve, but did she hear him speaking to her? It didn't matter, he decided a second later-_

_She'd have to die._

"_Yes…?" He wracked his brains for her name, and when she smiled he continued, "Helena Carrows?"_

_She huffed, her mouth forming a pout as she placed hands on her hips in an imitation of her mother. "You didn't have to say my first and last name."_

_He stood, brushing wood chips of the play park on Magnolia Crescent from his knees and hands and faced her with a small quiet smile. She blushed he noticed, and his eyes narrowed in perceptively._

_She liked him, apparently._

"_I'm sorry," he murmured, voice as soft as he could possibly make it, "but I don't know you very well, and it would seem a bit rude."_

_She seemed to deflate as she wrung her hands together in nervousness. Her blush intensified as she spoke, voice quiet and small._

"_It wouldn't have been rude," she said glancing into glittering emerald irises before looking away swiftly, "I-I mean I wouldn't have minded it."_

_Harry glanced around surreptitiously, taking note that there was no one around and allowed his most charming smile to make it's way onto his face. He succeeded in keeping her initial focus off Maeve long enough for the snake to settle into his backpack._

"_Would you like to come with me for a little while, Helena?" He asked, the soft clicks of the metal latches on the container going unnoticed._

_She was flustered, he could tell by the way she scuffed her little pink shoes into a pile of wood chips and hid the grin that wanted to show. He truly had nothing against her, but from experience with Victoria and Elizabeth, he knew she'd let blurt his secret._

_And he could have none of that._

"_B-but it's almost dinner time…" she began, watching as Harry's smile faded a little, "I-I'm sure they won't mind if I'm a little late though…"_

_His smile returned full force as he bent down to retrieve his backpack. She was very simple, just a flash of teeth here, a little charm there, and she was hanging onto his words like a puppy to it's mother's teat. He straightened and started in the direction of a small wood just off the road, seemingly not caring if she followed or not._

_The scattering of wood chips was proof enough._

"_I wanted to show you something, it's really cool," he said to her, eyes looking to the side she was closer to, "and it's really close."_

_He heard her giggle and sigh dreamily, causing him to furrow his brows in mild confusion. He didn't particularly have anything against her, but she'd sealed her fate the moment she called attention to herself. He paused and broke a willowy branch from a tree, Helena humming a tune softly below her breath, brown eyes alight with excitement._

_He decided then that he'd show her the barest hint of mercy._

_Stopping in the middle of the medium-sized clearing, he turned to her, soft smile still in place, "close your eyes, Helena, it's a surprise."_

_She squealed softly and closed her eyes, almost bouncing on the balls of her feet. He waited a moment before placing his book bag on the grass next to him and opening it._

'_You know what to do and when,' he said in a whispered hiss before turning back to the unawares girl, "no peeking," he told her as he felt the brown leather tip over as Maeve slithered out._

_Harry looked to her face a moment, then to the stick in his hand and felt his lips twitch slightly._

_The next moment, the clearing was filled with a muffled shriek as Helena's back hit the ground hard, a stick impaled in her right eye socket. Harry's overlarge blue sweater sleeve was quickly becoming soaked with the girl's blood as he kept his hand over her mouth. He watched as the girl twitched and bucked beneath him, trying to throw him off with her meager strength._

_He replied with pulling the stick from her eye, watching the optic nerve drip with blood for a moment._

_Flicking the eyeball away from his immediate area, he jammed the stick into the left eye socket, taking notice that the body beneath him had ceased it's movements. He looked to the damage he'd done and pondered a bit before he leaned closer, curiosity fueling his movements._

_A quick flick of his tongue and he'd tasted blood for the first time._

_He sat back, pulling the stick along with him, and flicked the second organ somewhere in the direction of the first. He stood shortly after, the tang of iron dancing on his tongue, and turned to Maeve who was swaying slightly in excitement._

'_Finish it, I want to make sure she's really dead,' he turned to the girl on the ground, a soft smile lighting his features._

"_I hope you liked your surprise, Helena."_

_

* * *

_

Her death was a rather memorable one, if only because he'd been able to finally taste blood. Looking to the clock, he was pleased to note he only had five minutes left in the session.

"That was a first…" Agetha said as she placed the plastic cap onto her ball point pen and closed both the manila folder and her note pad, "isn't it good to tell people your emotions sometimes, Harry? Keeping them pent up is never good."

He nodded to show his agreement, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly. He wanted a nap.

"I believe we're making progress," she continued, a kind smile taking up residence on her face, "before you never even spoke when you first started these sessions. I'm glad you're regaining some semblance of yourself, the deaths of your peers had taken such a toll on you."

He rolled his eyes beneath his bangs and stood, stifling a yawn as he bent to pick up his book bag. Nodding, he said in a sleep laden voice:

"Same time next week?"

Agetha nodded, reaching over to turn off the tap recorder. "Same time, Mr. Potter."

"Good day, Ms. Florentine."

He turned and missed the smile at his back.

"Good day, Harry."


	5. You've Made Your Bed

**Chapter Four:**

_You've made your bed- you'll have to lie in it_

* * *

Petunia Dursley was one that adored order and repetitiveness in her life. Take that away from her and you'll find a demon of a woman, horse-faced and cruel. She hated anything that threw off that careful balance of cleanliness and normalcy.

The fact that a mamba that was nearly seven feet long was staring at her did nothing to improve her opinion.

She'd been tidying up around the house while Vernon and her beloved baby boy Dudders had gone out for the day for some father-son time. She'd been content, quite happy until she noticed that freak of a boy wasn't up and about yet. Placing her scrub brush down, she left the upstairs bathroom and descended the stairs quietly, mood already turned foul.

The first thing she noticed was the cupboard door was ajar. The second, was the huge snake staring at her, smooth grey scales glinting softly in the artificial lighting. The third, she didn't have a clue as to where that wretched little freak had run off to. And last, she'd soiled herself and the previously immaculate hardwood floor in absolute terror.

Quite honestly, she was torn between anger and fear and rooted to the spot.

She hadn't seen the snake anywhere since that first initial meeting, assuming it was dead and forgotten somewhere. The fact that it had grown to a length that easily dwarfed her own size was something she didn't want to acknowledge. Quiet footsteps made their way to her ears and she tore her eyes away from the reptilian monstrosity to the figure just outside the kitchen.

Green eyes stared dispassionately up at her, his shoulder- length hair conquered by bed head. His cheeks had a soft pink tint to them and his pale rose lips were pursed in a thin line. The oversized sleeping shirt revealed a smooth expanse of white peach skin and shoulder and for a moment, she was mesmerized.

The boy was adorable.

And then her rational mind kicked in and forced her knees to buckle and she plopped into the puddle of waste beneath her. The wrinkling of a nose and an upturned lip was not missed as thin black eyebrows furrowed over flashing emeralds. She herself was disgusted and tried to stand, only to still when a smooth sibilant voice entered her awareness.

The boy's lips were moving and she found she couldn't understand a word that tumbled free from his orifice. She jumped when the snake moved and turned to the eight year old child, opening it's mouth and letting forth a string of hisses. It was then she realized, with a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach-

The boy could speak to snakes.

* * *

Harry was not a morning person.

He didn't particularly favor any other part of the day, but from his last check up he'd learned he had low blood pressure. Nothing new but it gave a reason to the fact that he often had hard times getting his bearings together when he woke, more often than not bumping into walls and losing his balance. Stifling a heavy yawn, he continued his trek back to his cupboard from the bathroom, stopping abruptly in the threshold of the kitchen.

Petunia Dursley was staring at Maeve.

Green eyes clashed with his own and he pursed his lips, not really wanting to believe what he was seeing, but then he saw her collapse and knew it was real. The strong smell of urine hit his nose soon after and his lip curled, nose wrinkling soon after. The woman was terrified, he concluded, and looked to the amused onyx eyes of the mamba.

'I assume this is your doing,' he stated, completely ignoring the still woman on the floor a few feet before him, 'well, at least she has a reason to make that face now.'

Maeve gave a series of hisses which he interpreted as a laugh and rolled his eyes. He felt no urgent need to do away with Petunia, since he'd already threatened her into compliance three years ago and thus ignored her completely.

'I was bored, Harry,' she hissed as she slithered to him, butting her head against his chin softly, 'she was there and knew of me, I knew you wouldn't get angry.'

He said nothing as she draped herself around his shoulders, coils and scales pressing against and mussing his hair even further. Even with the majority of her body hanging off his, her tail dangled against the side of his knee. A sigh issued forth from his lips and he looked again to the shaking woman who huddled on the floor in her puddle of waste.

"Apparently, sitting in urine is a past time of yours, Aunt," he told her, lips quirking as she flushed and scrambled to remove herself, "oh no, don't get up on my account, do take your time."

He could tell she was seething as she righted herself, the bottom of her dress and the backs of her legs soiled as she stomped upstairs, her feet leaving wet prints along her path.

A barely there chuckle and he reached up to stroke Maeve, his green eyes unfocused. A soft rumble alerted him to his hunger as his eyes moved to the cupboard door and he sucked his teeth. She knew he could get out of his cupboard now, which meant she would tell Vernon, which meant they'd get a better lock.

He wouldn't have that.

Carefully and silently, he avoided the foul smelling trail that Petunia left and made his way to the second floor. From the sound of running water and barely heard curses, he deduced the woman was in the bathroom. Trying the knob, he was unsurprised to find that it was locked, and allowed a yawn. He wasn't in the mood to deal with her, he felt a bit of irritation, then a small whisper of heat and paused.

He felt the knob give way to his still turned hand and stared.

His surprise fled swiftly, melting into the miasma of his mind, and he opened the door only to be bombarded with heat and the scent of bath oils. He frowned when water splashed onto the floor from Petunia turning toward him in shock, mouth opened in preparation to yell.

"What are you doing in here, boy?" She screeched, sinking into the murky bath water to hide her nude body. "I know for a fact I locked that door!" She paused a moment and drew a breath, damp brown strands falling across her shrewd face. "You used some of the freakishness you inherited from your parents! I know it!"

Harry for what it was worth, furrowed his eyes and parted his lips, Maeve flicking her tongue against his smooth cheek.

"Inherited you say?" He asked, ignoring the woman's state of undress in order to sate his curiosity. "What is this… 'freakishness' you speak of… dearest Aunt?"

The baby blue bath soap that was flung at his head was his answer and he quickly dodged.

"Get out!" Her voice rose so high that it seemed close to cracking, and another bar of soap was flung at him.

He paused a moment, as if considering her request, and left the bathroom, not bothering to close the door behind him. He stopped and placed Maeve near the door frame, with a smile and a soft "Stay here" he descended the stairs. He made his way into the kitchen, barely glancing at the clock to note the time and made his way to the counter.

Verdant irises zeroed in on the silver metal of the toaster and his lips twitched. Pulling a chair from the table, he placed it near the counter and stood on the soft cushion, unplugging the appliance. A quick once over and he nodded, jumping to the floor silently, and made his way back to the stairs.

He ascended the stairs, breath held and toaster under his right arm. He turned into the corridor to be met with the tail end of Maeve who was rather enjoying tormenting Petunia, if her hissing like laugh was anything to go by. She turned her head when Harry appeared in the door way, eyebrow raised at her antics.

'The smelly female is shaking at the sight of me,' she started, flicking her tongue against the pale skin of his hand when he was near enough, 'her fear makes me want to bite her even more now. Can I, Harry?'

He seemed to be considering as she twined her way up his arm, his glassy gaze upon his aunt who sat huddled within the bath water, eyes wide in fear. Tilting his head to the right, he felt the weight of Maeve resting atop his crown and small shoulders and gave a sudden grin.

The paling of Petunia was understandable.

'No,' he murmured, turning his head to place his face along the mamba's cool belly, 'she's still useful to me in the fact that if I go to an orphanage,' He glanced to the shivering woman in the bath tub, 'I'm not sure if I could control my urges… not to mention it's not easy to hide you.'

'You do not like the way I am?' Maeve asked with a sullen undertone as she dangled before his eyes.

'You're perfect just the way you are,' Harry said, tilting his head up to allow the large snake to flick her tongue against his lips, 'an intoxicating creature.'

She settled back within the nest of his hair with a pleased hiss, her coils tightening around him slightly. His attention shifted and Petunia flinched violently, the water sloshing against the edges of the basin and spilling over onto the floor. He watched as the liquid stopped inches from his feet and wiggled his toes before looking back to his aunt.

He stepped inside the room, cloaked within the smooth coolness of Maeve's scales, and dangled the toaster before him by the wire.

"I hope I you didn't miss me, Aunt," he began, a small smile making it's way to his youthful features, "I got you a present from the kitchen. Wanna use it?"

At the woman's frantic refusal, he felt a thin thread of patience snap, and the smile left just as quickly as it came. She noticed the change in his demeanor and immediately stilled, eyes never leaving the tiny child.

"Why not?" He asked, face as blank as a porcelain doll's.

Petunia merely remained silent, tears pricking at the edges of her eyes as she warily watched the child near the door. A flash of irritation, and he crossed the room, gripped her neck tightly, and pushed her beneath the water. He watched as she flailed about wildly for a moment, face an emotionless mask when suddenly he let go.

She surfaced with a loud gasp and spluttered as she greedily gulped in air, her eyes never leaving the youth's face. Watching her from the corner of his eyes, he turned to face Maeve, his damp hand gliding across her smooth scales that glistened in the bathroom light.

'I have no patience for her, Maeve,' he told the mamba, fingers dancing across smooth scales, 'impatience is a terrible thing.'

'Then why don't we kill her, Harry?' the snake asked as she shifted slightly in her position. 'She is one of the humans who bothered you before you spoke to me.'

'I told you a little while ago,' he murmured, pressing his lips against cool belly scales, 'she still has her usefulness.'

He could tell she wasn't satisfied by her silence but he didn't really care.

"You do know I could have killed you all many times over." Harry stated as his eyes slid to the shaking woman in the tub.

Petunia merely nodded, not daring to meet the boy's eyes as she stared blankly at the bath water, tears silently trailing down her face. He watched as the tear drops plopped onto the surface of the water and a surge of irritation flared.

She didn't deserve to cry.

"You do know I would have enjoyed making you all bleed." He stated, making her flinch and finally look upon his face. He made sure his facial muscles didn't move an inch.

"Yes," she answered and looked away again, voice listless and near silent.

"You do know…" Harry began, his free hand gliding smoothly through her hair, eyes watching his reflection in the mirror, "that I hate the three of you."

He felt the slight flinch and allowed a small upturn of his lips before it disappeared when she nodded. He didn't like the way she wasn't looking at him, it was almost as though she wasn't paying attention to him.

'You should kill her,' Maeve said in a whispery little hiss, extending a little to be nearer, 'I've never wanted to bite someone so much as I do now.'

"If you weren't useful to me," he continued, making her jump as he gripped her chin and jerked her face upward painfully, "I would have disposed of you years ago." He watched her swallow and he felt his mask slip. "Maeve wants to bite you all, you know."

The gentle flicking of the mamba's tongue against her skin made her close her eyes as the tears came faster.

"Look at me."

A choked sob escaped her lips as she squeezed her eyes tighter.

"Look at me, Aunt," the pressure upon her jaw was enough for her to open her eyes a sliver, "crying is a luxury and for the weak of will." Sooty lashes dimmed the light behind those eyes but his grin never faltered for a moment. "Don't forget that you drove me to this."

Petunia's eyes widened.

"Don't you ever forget that this is your fault."

He stood then, the grin fading into a small smile as Maeve gave a hissing little laugh. She watched numbly as he took the silver toaster along with him and left the room and felt herself slide deeper into the water.

* * *

'You should have drowned her,' Maeve said as she lay in coils upon his lap as he moved to grab a piece of toast, 'it would have made you happy.'

'Be that as it may,' Harry started as he pressed the power button on the remote, 'that still doesn't solve the fact that I would be shipped off to the farthest and most rundown orphanage Vernon could manage.'

A flick of her tongue against his chin as he took a bite of butter slathered toast, 'why would that be so bad? You would be free.'

'Though embarrassing as it is to admit,' he began as he flicked through the channels, crumbs standing out against his pale skin, 'I can't take care of myself, no one in their right mind would give a… child a job.'

'What is a job?' she asked as the licked the crumbs from his face idly.

'Something that allows me to survive away from others,' another bite and another flick of a channel.

The soft footfalls to his right caused him to drown out whatever else the curious mamba had to say and turn. Petunia stood there on the stairs, skin pale and green eyes wide. He looked away soon after, clearly dismissing her.

There was no doubt in his mind that she feared him now.

"Another murder has occurred and the authorities believe it to be the work of the Black Mamba," his eyes were drawn to the hazel eyed brunette on the television almost immediately, "Angelica Daniels, age seven was found choked and hung by her hair on the school swing set. Her autopsy found traces of the telltale venom running through her veins. The killer is still at large so please be advised to keep an eye on your children."

Harry's lips twitched and he took another bite of his toast, his green eyes lingering on the illuminated screen before him. A few seconds later however, he realized that Petunia was still standing at the bottom of the stairs, lips pursed. There was only a moment to ponder what she wanted before she spoke.

"It's you, isn't it?" She asked with conviction, green eyes trained steadily upon his own.

He stared at her blankly, as Maeve flicked her tongue to clear away the bread crumbs on his person. He leaned back against the couch cushions and squinted at her, his long lashes leaving only a sliver of emerald.

"What would you do if I said yes?" He asked as the mamba turned towards the woman, tongue flickering out to taste the air.

'She's back, Harry,' she said as she moved towards the stairs, upper body hanging off the side of the couch.

He watched as she closed her eyes tightly and started for the kitchen, carefully avoiding the slowly drying puddle of urine. Turning back to the television, he took another bite of his toast as Maeve swiveled around to eat the crumbs that seemed determined to be on his person. A few minutes later, his breakfast was done and he turned when a floorboard creaked near him.

The knife that imbedded itself into the cushion beside his head was an unwelcome surprise.

Wide emerald eyes looked into the frightened face of Petunia and he felt his lips twitch. The woman was crying while holding a knife that could have very well ended his life. Laughing loudly, he ignored the angry mamba in favor of gripping his aunt's wrist tightly.

"Impatient are we?" Harry asked, a wide smile on his face as he bent the thin wrist away from the weapon. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you tried to kill me?"

The feel and sound of snapping ligaments caused his smile to grow wider.

"Listen aunt," he began, chuckles under lapping her loud screams, "I don't have the patience to play games with you. I'll allow you and the whales to live," he pressed his nose gently against the slight bruising in her forearm, "but only if you promise you'll never go against me again."

She whimpered and glared at the small child, her stubbornness overriding the feeling of pain radiating from her wrist. "Are you daft boy? Why the Hell would I-?"

Another screech as sharp teeth dug into her arm, multiplying the pain tenfold.

"If anything else, at least your blood is relatively good," he murmured, tongue lapping at the blood in the tiny teeth indentations, "will you promise?"

If she tried to remove herself from his rather painful grip, she was sure he'd do something even more drastic than biting and breaking her wrist. On the other hand, if she did agree, she'd be condemned to being this boy's slave. She didn't like the sound of either, but a quick glance to the family photo above the television set, and she found she had no choice in the matter.

She loved her family after all.

"Was that so hard?" He asked, releasing the now limp limb after she'd nodded her compliance. 'It's ok, Maeve,' was said as he turned to the rearing mamba that was trying to bite his aunt, 'I've settled it.'

His vision was filled with reptilian onyx eyes as she turned, needle like fangs nearly dripping with deadly venom. 'Settled? What do you mean settled?' She flicked her tongue to taste his scent, to be sure that he was in no pain. 'She tried to hurt you, Harry, I want her dead.'

He watched as she moved away, intent on doing just what she said she would, and placed his arm in the way, causing her to pause. 'Maeve,' his whispered, childish voice turned soothing, 'don't go, I won't be able to make her life Hell if you kill her.'

Twining about his small arm, she let out an unintelligible hiss, and looked to Petunia. Her mouth opened and allowed just enough venom to build up and drip to the floor, causing the woman to pale and back away. 'You are lucky this day.'

Moving Maeve's upper body above him, he watched as she closed her mouth neatly. 'She can't understand you, you know.'

'I am aware,' she said with an obvious pout in her sibilant voice, 'but that does not stop me from making threats.'

Leaning back far enough, he allowed his eyes to make contact with his aunt's. "You know, slacking off isn't your strong suit." He watched as she flushed and cradled her abused arm to her chest. "Your fault."

Widened green eyes caused him to chuckle, only to pause when his head tapped lightly against the cool metal of the kitchen knife. The smile was wiped cleanly away and left a frighteningly emotionless child in it's wake.

"Always has been."

He watched as she turned away, back hunched as she tried to hold back tears.

"Always will be."

He settled back into the couch cushions and flicked the channel.

* * *

'She came in here while you slept,' Maeve said, the whole of her body curled on and around his torso, 'I could smell that she wanted to kill you again.'

A tremendous yawn and he rolled over, careful of her body as he tried to ride out the rest of his sleepiness.

'She had a pillow in her uninjured hand,' she continued as she flicked her tongue against his bedraggled hair, 'but she fled once she found I was awake and well.'

'Thank you, Maeve,' Harry murmured as he tried to burrow into the tatty pillow beneath his head, 'if she had interrupted my nap… I'm not sure what would have happened.'

A pause as she moved her head in front of his face, tongue flicking against his eyelid until a sliver of green could be seen.

'Would you have killed her?' she asked, the malice in her voice almost tangible.

He closed his eye and breathed deeply, snuggling once more into the pillow.

'Most likely a broken finger.' His eyebrows furrowed when the feather light touches of her tongue danced across his face. 'Do you want something?'

'Her corpse rotting in the backyard.' She answered with conviction, head resting solidly against his own.

What was supposed to be a witty remark turned into incomprehensible mumbles as he yawned and sat up, Maeve slipping into his lap in a tangle of coils. Staring at the cupboard wall he strained to hear over the snake's annoyed hisses as she untangled herself from his person.

Petunia was in the kitchen again.

'I'm hungry.' He announced as he grabbed his glasses from somewhere to his right. 'Come with me to the kitchen.'

A flick of her tongue against his hand before she slithered up his arm and settled comfortably upon his shoulders. Pushing open the door he stood, immediately noticing that the floor was clean and the air smelled of citrus, and turned toward the kitchen, hand playing with the tip of Maeve's tail.

Standing at the threshold of the kitchen he observed the woman in the kitchen silently.

Petunia stood at the sink, back toward him, brown hair out of it's usual neat bun. She didn't appear to notice him, for her skin was a healthy tan in contrast the pale tone it had taken every time she had the chance to lay eyes on him. He felt a grin touch his lips before his stomach made his presence known, causing the woman to flinch and turn slowly, and he frowned.

He'd forgotten he was hungry.

"I'm hungry," he stated, watching her healthy tan seemingly drain away from all visible skin, "make me something, aunt."

Despite her fearful appearance, her stubbornness reared it's ugly head, causing her to sneer as she opened her mouth to speak. "You expect me to make it for you? I am not your servant, Boy."

She saw something flicker in those verdant orbs and she instinctively cowered. The mamba flicked it's tongue against a milky white cheek, onyx eyes fixated upon her person, and she swallowed. Nearly lost in her fear, she almost didn't catch the soft spoken words from her nephew.

"You still haven't learned…" he trailed off, head tilted to allow his fringe to slide across his vision, "I guess the only way to do so is to punish you…" he reveled in the widening of the woman's green, green eyes, "frighten you…" he placed a hand against the gray scales that surrounded him comfortably, "break you even…"

She flinched violently and a string of hysterical giggles bubbled forth and filled the cozy little kitchen.

"Your reactions make me laugh," he said before all humor was gone in an instant, "but do you wanna know how I killed that girl?" He didn't wait for Petunia's go ahead, and answered for her. "Of course you do, it's such a regaling tale."

_He'd been sleeping soundly in the empty classroom, head cushioned within the confines of his folded arms. It was well past the time for the last bell to ring and yet he slumbered on, inky black strands of hair obscuring his facial features. If anything, he was content in this relaxed state._

_It was only natural that something come along and disrupt it._

_He was shaken roughly awake by an angry hand complete with an angry voice. In being awoken so suddenly and in such a manner, he did the only thing he could think of with muddled senses. Hand shooting out lightening quick, he grasped at the person's windpipe with deadly accuracy, an angry hiss building up in his throat as he moved to gaze upon the unlucky recipient of his rage._

'_What the fuck are you-?'_

_A misty-eyed girl-child looked down at him, cheeks flushed red as her wispy platinum blonde hair danced freely about her face. Blue eyes stared at him in muted terror and he found himself staring back into the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. He'd never seen eyes as blue as the sky and for a moment he forgot himself._

_This person's eyes were the color of freedom._

_His grip slackened and the girl backed away, wide eyes never leaving his person. He found for once he wanted a person's eyes upon him and he reveled in the attention. Pushing his fringe away, his eyes followed the movements of someone who vaguely resembled a skittish rabbit. He was amused for a moment before the feeling passed, replaced by irritation._

_She hadn't spoken yet, and his annoyance was great._

"_Who are you?" He asked, taking note that the majority of her hair was in two long pleated braids along her back. _

_Her expression changed from fearful to annoyed in a matter of seconds and he marveled at the change. Her eyes were alight with fire and her face seemed to come alive with the change in the emotions and he nearly smiled._

_Nearly being the keyword._

"_I'm Angelica Daniels," she began with a huff, crossing her arms to express her anger, "I'm your classmate who's sat next to you for the past three months, Harry."_

_Placing his chin in the palm of his hand he pondered this strange girl before him._

"_I don't recall," he began, voice falsely apologetic, "I'm sorry. I'm horrible with names and faces." A lie more or less but it was true he didn't exactly care about his peers enough to acknowledge them enough to match a face with a name._

_But this girl, he decided to make an exception for once._

"_Geeze…" she muttered as she ran a hand through disheveled bangs, "I feel honored that you- the great and scary Harry Potter- " he ignored the sarcasm in her voice which was thick enough to cut with a knife, "are speaking to poor little me."_

_He felt his lips twitch ever so slightly and he moved so as to cover his lips from view._

"_You really don't laugh do you?" She asked as she took a seat beside him, careful not to let the chair drag too much on the tiled floor._

"_At jokes that fail to be amusing?" Harry questioned with an air of superiority, allowing his fringe to cover one of his eyes. "I hardly think that constitutes a laugh."_

_Silence for the barest of moments before she snorted lightly, plopping down in the desk nearest him with nary a worry that she was unladylike. He found this strange freedom eyed creature pleasant, though she was of the populace._

"_Maybe making you laugh is harder since you're not from here?" At his confused look, she elaborated, the barest dusting of pink staining her cheeks. "You were speaking in some weird language when I woke you up earlier, which I'm sorry about."_

_Emerald eyes narrowed in perceptively, sooty dark lashes shading the brilliant color._

"_I…" he trailed off, eyes flicking towards the floor where his book bag sat, "you are mistaken. You probably heard me slurring my speech is all."_

_Denial be thy name._

"_You were pretty clear… even though you were yelling at me…" Angelica said after a moment, blue eyes trained on shaded green. "What were you saying?"_

'_Did I say something earlier…?' He asked, as he stared at the confusion and fear swirling within her blue eyes._

_He felt his back pack wriggle slightly against his leg as a quiet little hiss filled his ears._

'_Yes you did, Harry.'_

_His eyes closed and he allowed a sigh before opening them again. A small smile lit pale rose lips and he watched as her cheeks deepened to a sultry looking red._

_Freedom wasn't something he could have, apparently._

"_Want to go to the playground before we leave?" Harry asked, already moving to gather his things. "I don't really feel like going home just yet."_

"_Sure," she said, a smile lighting her pretty features nicely._

_They walked in companionable silence, freedom colored eyes glancing his way every so often. He did his part by allowing a barely there smile to linger and his eyes remaining half mast as he appeared lost in thought._

_Infatuation was key._

_He noticed she matched his steps with hers, her hands catching at the edges of his overlong sweater sleeves every time she thought she could get away with it, and he found he didn't care as much as he normally did. His steps faltered slightly at the back entrance of the school and his smile withered as his lips parted when a thought occurred._

_Something was off, and it was her fault._

"_What's wrong, Harry?" She asked and suddenly the color of freedom was in the whole of his vision. "Are you okay?"_

_For a moment, he was speechless, breathless, and motionless. The moment passed and he found himself with his head in his hands and seated on the steps leading to the playground behind the school. His eyes widened behind his glasses and he found he didn't remember moving to where he was, and for once in a long time, he grew afraid._

_He didn't know why, but he knew he didn't like it._

_He looked to his right and caught sight of pleated blonde hair as Angelica stared intently at the sky, before she closed her eyes with a small smile adorning her lips. He shook his head and turned away, looking instead to his book bag._

'_Maeve…' he whispered, already placing his hand within the confines of the container, 'Maeve… I need you.'_

_The mamba lifted her head ever so slightly and flicked her tongue, immediately baring her thin needle like teeth at him when she caught wind of his scent._

'_You smell of fear.' She stated, onyx eyes lingering on emerald. 'Why?'_

'_I found freedom,' he allowed his eyes to look upon the girl a few feet away, 'and I realize that I do not want it, for it makes me wary and on edge.'_

_She allowed her head to rest on the edge of the book bag and stared at the human child that had her Harry so very in edge. 'Kill her then.'_

_He met Maeve's eyes, a sense of calm brushed away the uncomfortable feeling of fear and he smiled._

'_You needn't tell me twice.'_

_He stood then, not bothering to hide the curious mamba which followed after him, and approached Angelica. Her hair swayed when she turned towards him, soft smile on her face before she caught sight of the snake behind him. It was almost amusing the way the skin around her blue, blue eyes paled, and she stumbled before falling, wood chips sent flying from impact._

"_H-Harry!" She stuttered, wide gaze fixated behind him. "Th-there's a snake-!"_

_The hand that gripped her throat was far from welcoming, but she stilled when she felt the coarse fabric of his sweater graze her jugular. Freedom colored eyes looked into glass like emerald and she felt the first tears fall._

"_I am aware." Harry murmured, grasping at the ends of her braids and pulling at the ribbons. "Your hair is beautiful."_

_The only sound that was made was a hiccup and a sob as he released the soft strands from their braids. He flicked her bangs then grasped the majority of the silken mass and pulled hard enough for her to stumble._

'_You hesitate…' Maeve whispered as she situated herself next to the blonde, scales touching the bare skin of her leg slightly. 'Do you want her more than I?'_

_His eyes never left misty blue. 'No, I do not.' He watched as the tears fell faster. 'I will kill her quickly, since I'm hungry.'_

"_Angelica…" Harry whispered lifting his hands to cup her plump and rosy cheeks. "Angelica… your eyes are like freedom, and thus they are as beautiful as your hair." He leaned in and allowed his forehead to rest upon hers. "Very pretty." A chaste kiss on petal soft lips and he looked into her eyes once more._

"_Harry…"_

_A smile and he kissed her once more._

"_Good bye."_

_He snapped her neck in one swift movement._

'_No blood this time?' Maeve asked as she bit the girl's wrist delicately._

'_No blood,' he answered as he dragged the girl's body to the swing set, 'I didn't want freedom to be stained.'_

_A flick of a tongue. 'What is freedom?'_

_He looked down at the mamba near his feet, already done tying platinum blonde strands to the swing set._

'_I don't know.'_

* * *

His feet swung as he ate a bit of sausage that Petunia had given him sometime in the middle of his tale. He was pleased that she'd gone quite a bit pale in the face, moreso than before, and that was saying something.

"Wasn't it an enchanting story?" Harry asked with a smile littered with sausage bits. "Tell me which part you liked? And if you didn't like it..." He took a bite of sausage, "I could always tell you more."

A visible shiver and she opened her mouth-

Only to stop as he raised his hand to silence her, listening and sighing as he heard the front door click, Dudley's muted voice already reaching his ears. He sighed again and shrugged, already standing, Maeve wrapped tightly about his shoulders.

"We really must share stories more, aunt. It was fun." A light chuckle. "I mean honestly, who wouldn't want to know they were the cause of children dying?"

Green eyes turned misty and he grinned full on.

"Not you, of course."


	6. Question of Time

**Chapter Five:**

_Question of Time_

**Disclaimer(**x2**): **J.K. Rowling owns all rights to the Harry Potter Books and Movies.

**Warnings: **Dismemberment, blood, and gore.

* * *

Tobias Mathews was of a mellow sort, often called lazy by his co-workers and friends. He was tall, well built and beloved by his wife and child. The children of his class were fond of him and often shortened his surname to 'Mr. Matt' but he didn't care, since he was one of the few adults whom they adored almost as much as their parents. Normally, nothing could bring him into a state of mild shock, let alone cause him to be so afraid that he was rooted to the spot.

However, the sight in the alleyway gave him reason to stare in abject horror.

Blood was everywhere in the dingy little alleyway, splattered on bricks and pavement. The garbage cans and windows were painted with a distorted macabre of color, briefly causing him to wonder how many people had died this night. The thought didn't last long and before he knew it, the foul odor of death and decay hit his nostrils, causing him to expel the contents of his stomach in a nearby red sprinkled trash receptacle.

His knees gave out and he sat just out of reach of the nearest blood stain, breath coming in harsh pants as his hazel eyes continued to take in the sight before him. Something like this happening in his quaint little neighborhood seemed like a far fetched lie and thus he refused to believe it. Perhaps a teen had gotten a little excited and had thrown a few paint balloons?

While he couldn't explain the smell, surely… surely there was no way such a thing could have happened in his life time. He continued to deny the evidence so tantalizingly dangled before him and turned his head away, only to meet onyx eyes inches before his face.

A tongue flickered against his nose and he swallowed.

The largest snake he'd ever seen in all his twenty nine years of existence was sitting before him, calm as could be. Judging roughly by it's length, he concluded it was around eight feet long and felt a whimper escape his throat. The fact that such a large creature was roaming the streets of Surrey unnoticed for who knows how long made his skin crawl and his body shake.

Gunmetal grey scales glinted in the street light and he felt an absurd need to touch them, but he refrained when he heard the soft tapping of light foot steps and froze. The snake blinked and turned towards the sound, tongue flickering about idly. He turned as well, finding after a moment the reptilian monstrosity had seemingly forgotten about him in favor of the person standing just out of his vision.

Tobias shivered when he realized the person had stopped just outside the ring of light provided by the street lamp he cowered in. He flinched when the snake hissed suddenly and moved towards the darkness slowly, it's scales scraping softly against the concrete. It stopped when a blood soaked hand shot out to stay it and his eyes widened.

It was the hand of a child.

He watched in fascination as the hand disappeared only to reappear hidden beneath a long sweater sleeve at the child's side. He couldn't tell what color it was for the fabric was thick with the glossy sheen of blood and he felt his stomach drop at the sheer amount of it. He could hear the drops as they fell from the edges of the sweater into the newly made puddle beneath the child's feet.

His face was streaked crimson, milk white skin peaking out from beneath the crimson coat in no recognizable pattern. His hair which reached just below small shoulders also dripped precariously, seeping into and past the thick collar. His glasses were caked with the liquid as well, making it seem as though he wore red tinted shades. Tobias flinched again when he saw the boy move, removing his glasses and revealing his eyes.

They were ever so green, and in that moment he realized who this boy was.

Harry looked down upon his classroom teacher; Tobias Matthews, and sniffed before licking his lips absently. The taste of iron was welcome and he glanced at the cowering man before him and squinted slightly, unsure. His gaze flicked to his glasses and back to the blurry man within the circle of light and held out his spectacles.

"Clean them." He said clearly, childlike voice airy and light.

There was silence as the man shifted and blurred, disappearing from the immediate area. He heard the hurried footsteps and swiveled towards the sound, irritated that his sight had failed him. Drops of blood flew past his vision as his fringe swayed at the sudden movement and he felt his lip curl in a silent snarl.

'Don't chase him', he said, voice low and harshly whispered, struggling, as he saw Maeve make a move to do so. 'I wouldn't be able to see where you went…' He shook excess blood from his glasses and grinned a little when he heard the splatters against bricks.

'Your sight is that bad?' Maeve asked, flicking her tongue barely out of reach of his skin.

He nodded, dragging his tongue along the edge of his glasses slowly so as to savor the coppery taste. 'Yes… but it doesn't matter, I know who the man is.'

Kneeling down quietly, he reveled in the feeling of the thick liquid upon his skin and focused his blurry sight on Maeve, placing his hand upon the mamba's head, he sighed absently. The fact that someone had in fact lived when he was intent on killing them… made him want to hide himself away and plan.

It made him giddy.

He wanted to plan oh so very much, the man had merely bought himself a sparse amount of time and he found that once he'd become accustomed to that feeling of loss, he rather liked it. It exhilarated him and he ignored the way the snake seemed to sway lazily, intoxicated by the musk he exuded. He wanted to plot, wanted to think…

He wanted to be at Number Four Privet Drive this very moment.

A whisper of heat encased him for the briefest of seconds, before the nauseating felling of being squeezed through a tight tube forced him to close his eyes against the sensation. A moment later, amidst surprised hissing, he opened them again.

Only to see the blurry Dursley's front yard.

'What did you do?' Maeve asked, forked tongue flickering about madly, clear headed once the thick cloud of Harry's excitement vanished abruptly. 'I felt as though I was being squeezed tightly, it was uncomfortable.'

'I…,' he looked to his blood stained hands, green eyes squinting, 'I don't know.' He blinked and his head shot up, eyes focused on a window on the first floor, noticing at once that the moonlight wasn't reflecting at a certain point.

'The window is open.' He stated, already standing to make sure of it. He didn't have to, not really, after all he only killed every three months if he was feeling lazy.

He lifted his sweater covered hand and gripped the edge of the sill, mentally congratulating himself on threatening Petunia into leaving at least one window open on the ground floor at all times. He frowned when he realized the fabric of the sweater was hardening, though the majority was still in fact wet. He sighed and placed his right sleeve in his mouth a moment, sucking lightly before using both of his arms to haul himself up.

What a waste.

Landing nimbly like a cat, he squinted and surveyed the moonlit area of the living room quickly, pleased to note that no one was awake at this hour. He turned back to the window and extended his arm outside, Maeve curling about the sticky limb with ease. Hauling her inside carefully, so as not to let her drag heavily along the side of the house, he paused as he noticed something dark staining the window sill. Upon closer inspection, he blinked and grinned.

A smear of blood coated the surface, rich and gleaming dimly.

He shrugged as Maeve curled her lower body in the area about his feet and listened as she hissed quietly to him. 'There's a puddle of blood beneath you, the smelly female will be angry.' He looked and noticed that she was in fact right, at least he thought so, from the way to moonlight hit the area beneath his feet. 'I wish to be clean. Let me bathe with you.'

Harry looked at her and thought for a moment before answering. 'Only if you get out when I tell you to.' He remembered how hard it was to get the mamba out of the bathtub the first few times, he had no desire to deal with that at this time. He had things to plan. School to attend.

People to kill.

'Fine…,' she answered, voice a sulky little thing as she led the way to and up the stairs, 'but I would like to hunt soon, Harry.'

'Of course,' he answered, glancing behind himself to check if he was leaving a messy red trail. He grinned when he realized he was and chuckled lowly. Petunia would simply be ecstatic at the change in décor. 'Just don't eat enough to be full.' He flicked a dried piece of blood from beneath his finger nail.

She paused and turned her head as she caught wind of that oh so wonderful musk that was her Harry. 'And why is that?'

Emerald irises seemed to glow iridescent in the silver light of the moon as he looked upon Maeve, his smile showing a tinge of his madness. 'A surprise for you.'

She opened her mouth and gave a long hiss of pleasure. 'Your surprises are most welcome.'

He hummed near silently and opened the bathroom door when he reached it, agitated to the point of hissing when the artificial light caused spots to dance before his impaired vision. When his vision cleared, he frowned and entered, pausing only to allow Maeve to slither past before he grasped the knob. Just before the door closed, he heard Petunia stirring and he felt his lips tugging upward again.

She was sure to be livid.

A pity he wouldn't be able to see it, but then again, he wanted to be clean. Placing his glasses within the sink he looked into the mirror, watching the child that stared back at him. Pale peach white skin peaked from under dried blood streaks, marring the otherwise immaculate flesh of his face. His eyes were large and a beautiful shade of green, and he couldn't stop the sneer that graced his lips.

Disgusting.

Turning away, he noticed Maeve was staring at him, the light dancing off the surface of onyx eyes and grey scales, and he stopped to stare at her as well. She sat regally atop the toilet lid, looking for all the world like the queen she was. Her tongue flicked, her eyes flickered, and she hissed lowly, revealing a sliver of a blackened mouth.

'Your scent…' she trailed off lowering her gaze to the blood on his cheek, 'is muted by the stench of the humans you killed. I do not like it.'

He snorted and moved to the tub, turning the dials for the shower instead of the bath, hands testing for the correct temperature. Satisfied at the feeling of the water being just over lukewarm for the mamba's sake, he began to disrobe, pausing only when he noticed the majority of the sweater's fabric was thick with the stiff feeling of dried blood. His lips pulled into a frown as he threw the article of clothing against the wall.

Disappointing.

He watched in muted fascination as it stuck slightly before falling, a bloody print revealing itself upon it's white canvas. His lips twitched in a smile when he thought of this being added to Petunia's workload and he shrugged out of the rest of his garments. He observed his body as Maeve slithered into the tub, her delighted hiss nearly being drowned out by the pouring water.

His skin was an even paler shade than that of his hands and face, though at the moment, it was tinted a faint pink from the scant amount of blood that had managed to soak through his clothing. He placed a hand against the smooth flat plane of his stomach and lifted his head slightly, eyebrows furrowed before placing his other hand against the side of his chest. He sneered at the feeling of lightly protruding ribs and removed his appendages from his person as though his flesh were a searing flame.

Only time could hide the evidence of his abuse, he only wished that time would come sooner.

He turned and met onyx eyes watching him through the see through shower curtain and he frowned, not in the mood to deal with her curiosity. Looking away from the water slick scales, he pulled the curtain away and stepped in, ever mindful of her body coiled at the bottom of the tub. He stared blankly at the tiled bathroom wall before him, world falling away in a sick parody of the blood seeping down his body in red rivulets.

Harry didn't know how long he stood there in that daze, but the feeling of Maeve clinging about his waist made him snap his gaze to the side, body stiff as he stared once again into her eyes. He reigned in a hiss and looked away again, green eyes focused intently on the red liquid as it eddied before draining. His eyes narrowed and he ran two fingers along the side of his face almost absently and moved it away from the rain of droplets, only to gaze upon reddened fingers through sooty lashes.

His tongue cleaned the digits and he smiled.

* * *

Tobias didn't want to be here.

He stood in the corner, back to the classroom as he gently banged his head repeatedly against the classroom wall. He was rattled and he was alone, away from the loving embrace of his wife and child. He'd nearly called in sick, but after a stern yet worried look from his spouse he refrained, not wanting to worry the woman anymore than he'd done the night before.

He'd entered the house a broken babbling mess of a man, tears streaming and eyes wide and unseeing. Had Penelope not been there, he was sure he'd have rocked himself into a fearful stupor. She had hugged him tightly, her whispered words fluttering about his ears like the wings of birds in flight. She had kissed him afterwards, when his tears were nothing more than unshed liquid lingering within his eyes and had then brought him to their bedroom, dreams of red eyes and green blood haunting his sleep where he lay fitfully in his wife's arms.

He paused to rub his face a moment, then resumed the methodical head banging.

He was tired, so very so, and it showed in the way his eyes drooped, bags strikingly present beneath his normally cheerful eyes. And again he thought of leaving, he thought of sleeping, and he thought of-.

"Good morning, Mr. Matt!"

A strangled scream caught in his throat as he turned around swiftly to meet the startled brown eyes of Amanda Brooks. He blinked at her and she at him and he swallowed before squeezing his eyes shut. A moment of almost silence, punctuated only by the sounds of children chattering beyond the open door, and he opened his eyes and smiled.

"Why hello Ms. Brooks, how are you this morning?"

The little brunette blinked, eyeing him strangely before returning his smile, her gap-tooth grin wide enough to show her gums. Her cheerful demeanor caused a cool feeling of relief to encase him and he felt his rather strained smile become easier to manage. To put him in a good mood wasn't a hard thing to do, especially since he adored children, which was why he became a grade school teacher.

"I didn't want to wake up so early," she began, bottom lip jutting forward in a pout, "but momma told me I had to go. I'm still sleepy."

She made a show of rubbing one of her eyes, and he couldn't help a chuckle that escaped. His students were just too cute.

"Then you wouldn't be able to see any of your friends," he began, ruffling her chin-length hair fondly, "and you'd miss a whole day of learning!"

She looked at him and frowned, clearly not at all pleased about learning as he was. His smile grew larger and more genuine, the faint pounding at the base of his skull fading into nonexistence.

"But, Mr. Matt!" Amanda whined, clearly adamant about her beliefs. "School is boring!"

Tobias, for what it was worth, gave a gasp and placed his right hand over his heart, eyes wide with apparent disbelief.

"You wound me, Amanda!" He said with a smile tugging at his lips from her apologetic expression. "I'm kidding, but learning isn't boring…" he trailed off, a thoughtful expression overcoming his handsome features, "sometimes that is."

He took pride in the soft little smile that seemed to bloom upon her lips.

"Mostly." She said.

"Mostly?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

"Mostly." She repeated with a definitive nod.

He chuckled and ruffled her hair once more before continuing. "But surely-"

"Move."

The voice was soft, almost unheard, but the way that Amanda flinched and turned told him that he wasn't hearing things. Looking to the head of unruly raven hair, caused his smile to freeze and his eyes to lock onto the familiar features of the Potter child.

"What?" She asked, clearly annoyed at the way she'd been spoken to, if her frown was anything to go by.

"You're in the way." He said, voice devoid of inflection as his eyes shifted towards his person, a chill racing down his spine when their gazes connected.

Tobias couldn't help but think that last sentence was directed towards him.

"That's really mean, Harry." she huffed, turning back to Tobias and subsequently moving out of the doorway. "Are you okay, Mr. Matt?"

He jumped, looking back to the girl when apathetic emerald greens looked elsewhere. "ah, yes," he murmured as he noticed the boy wore a black turtleneck with overlong sleeves and baggy oversized blue jeans, "yes I am. Go to your seat, class is starting soon, Amanda."

He realized his tone wasn't one he normally took with children, but he couldn't overcome the seemingly insurmountable feeling of fear that badgered his senses. He chanced a glance at the bespeckled boy and barely repressed what was sure to be a violent flinch.

He was staring at him, chin propped up upon a revealed all too pale hand as if he didn't have a care in the world.

A smile slowly materialized on the child's face, and Tobias was momentarily stunned. Harry's dark clothing and hair seemed to make his pale skin glow and in that moment he was sure the child was not of this world. The moment shattered when that smile disappeared, leaving behind only ethereal skin and a face void of emotions.

He closed his eyes and prayed in the next moment.

He prayed he would be able to be himself today. He prayed he would be able to teach the children of his class. He prayed he would be able to see Penelope again. He prayed he would be able to see his five year old daughter Cassidy again. He prayed he would be able to continue being a teacher.

He opened his eyes in time to hear the class bell ring.

He thought it was funny how fear caused a man who never practiced religion a day in his life to pray with all his being. He gave a strained smile to the children of his class, his hazel eyes refusing to even venture in the vague direction of the boy with the paper-white skin.

"First things first," he began, eyes dancing, "pass up last night's homework assignment."

A collective groan and his features relaxed into something more natural.

* * *

Emerald green irises stared at the tiny struggling body in his hand. He'd never actually tried to catch a squirrel before and he found it was despairingly easy. Then again, Maeve had distracted it for the most part and it had run close enough to him in it's need to escape.

He'd scooped it up with nary a thought otherwise.

It had, or course, tried to bite him to dislodge his grip, and when it realized that it's teeth and claws were not penetrating the thick wool of his sweater it started to scream. It was something between a quack and a hacking cough and he frowned, eyes narrowing as he focused on the struggling animal.

It was annoying and he wanted to end it.

A glance towards Maeve and he reigned in the urge with a minute frown since she preferred her meals to be alive and kicking. Holding out the hand that gripped the beast, he squeezed until he heard a faint yet gratifying crack and grinned.

He dropped it in the next second, and the mamba was on it as soon as it's body hit the ground. He stooped then, watching as she stretched her jaws wide enough to swallow the squirrel whole. By this time it had stopped screaming and the surrounding area was blissfully silent.

He'd looked away sometime in the middle, the novelty of her eating habits had worn off about the fifth time the snake had eaten in front of him, and allowed his eyes to wander, his gaze never lingering here nor there. He paused, however, when a familiar figure met his sight, and his eyes narrowed.

Tobias Matthews was currently engaged in what looked to be an entertaining conversation, if anything could be said about his expression that is. He had one of the largest smiles Harry had ever seen upon his countenance, and it made the man seem younger, vibrant, and full of life. He frowned as his teacher doubled over in laughter and felt his upper lip twitch upward to reveal pink gums and perfect white teeth.

He didn't like to be forgotten, even for a moment.

How he wanted to make due on the promise to himself right this instant. The man was an eyesore that he wanted to be rid of, the sooner, he suddenly decided, the better. His eyes narrowed even more and he flinched slightly as that strange, yet alluring whisper of heat invaded his awareness, causing him to close his eyes to somehow relish it in it's fleeting appearance. His eyes snapped open the next moment when the sound of shattering glass made itself known as the absence of heat lifted the comfortable haze from his mind.

Harry watched as the raven haired teacher jumped, hazel eyes wide as blood cascaded down his face due to a shallow cut upon his right eyebrow. He stared and smiled when the man took notice of him, his bewildered countenance morphing into something akin to unbridled fear.

Tobias stood in that instant amongst worried glances and questions and left the room hurriedly, almost running in his haste to be away from the child with those venomous green eyes. The child in question however merely continued to smile and looked back to the mamba whom was currently feasting upon yet another squirrel.

'Maeve,' he began almost sweetly, continuing when her heavy onyx gaze landed on him, 'come here. I wish to hold you.'

She moved when she pushed the animal two thirds of the way down her body, sunlight dancing off her scales brilliantly as she made her way towards him. His fingers danced lightly along the length of her body as she curled herself about his shoulders and in his lap. He looked back to the window of the teacher's lounge as cool scales scraped gently against the back of his neck and took a breath.

'There is something wrong,' stated the mamba, tongue flicking against his bangs lightly, 'what is it?'

His gaze settled upon Maeve, unblinking as he took in the sight of her. She was distracting but she was glorious and she was his. He smiled and tilted his head up to kiss beneath her jaw, humming when the familiar feather light touch of her tongue touched his lips.

'He is the something,' he murmured, narrowing his eyes until a sliver of poisonous green was left, 'the something that is wrong. There's only one way to correct that something…'

Long lashes kissed his pale cheeks as the coils that surrounded him tightened slightly.

'Will he die?' She asked, onyx eyes focused intently on his, the excitement in her voice infectious.

'He will die,' he answered, eyes opening to focus on the vague direction of the parking lot, 'today.'

Maeve gave a pleased little hiss and languidly twined deeper into the nest she'd made in his hair, the sun taking it's toll upon her. Harry hummed again and yawned, just as lethargic as the mamba lazing upon his body and frowned when the bell rang.

There was a pointed silence before he merely closed his eyes and dozed.

* * *

The second half of the school day came and went with Tobias being more than a little shaken up.

The Potter child was nowhere to be found.

While he exulted at the fact that the boy wasn't in any way near him, he was more frightened at the prospect of not knowing where he was. He knew the children thought his behavior to be odd, what with the jerky movements and the quick sideways glances towards dark corners, open windows, and closed doors, but he cared not to console them.

For he was the one who needed consoling.

He'd lost track of a child under his supervision, granted said child wanted him dead, and wasn't in his right mind, he wasn't sure how he was supposed to be feeling. On the one hand, if Harry wasn't found, he was positive that he'd be relieved of his position as an elementary school teacher. On the other hand, he was certain that if the boy revealed himself to him while he was alone, he'd be relieved of his life.

He'd much rather hope for the former.

Tobias ran a lightly shaking hand through his hair and frowned, feeling the dampness of his skin against the cropped ebony strands. He was sweating, slight as it was, but he couldn't deny it and a wry grin lit his features. Here he was frightened to near madness because of a child he'd given an oath to nurture and protect.

He'd never before wished his dream job was something else.

A sigh and he flinched as the door creaked open, causing him to jerkily turn towards it with a feeling of dread. Harry Potter stood in the doorframe, green eyes watching him with such a severe lack of emotion he felt himself swallow involuntarily. Rose pink lips twitched then burst into a full out smile, and his eyes glittered like expensive emeralds and he felt a chill run up his spine despite how cherubic the boy looked.

There was something terribly wrong here.

"Hello Mr. Matthews," he began, voice as fluid and cool as water, "fancy seeing you here." His gaze flickered to the open window across the room, "I would have thought you'd be well on your way home," verdant irises returned to him, pinning him to his chair, "to be with your family."

His smile morphed into something too devious and too sly and Tobias gripped the armrests of his chair tightly enough to turn his knuckles white. This boy was not behaving like a normal child his age, his mindset was far too advanced for his age, his manner of speech and mannerisms bordering on that of a high school student. He frowned deeply then, brows furrowed as he focused on his student, immediately noticing he had sobered and left the man with an imitation of a porcelain doll.

A damn good one too.

"Certain matters had come to my attention, Mr. Potter," he paused as Harry shifted lightly, bringing his right arm up to adjust his glasses, "you did not return to my class after lunch." He watched as eyes flickered before continuing. "May I ask why?"

There was silence for a moment, as though the green eyed youth were considering his question, and he barely refrained from snorting rudely. "Surely I wasn't the only one absent this afternoon," once again he moved his right arm, adjusting, "was I?"

There was a pause in which the elder male thought back to the latter half of the day. Honeyed hazel eyes dimmed as nothing was forthcoming, he'd been so preoccupied with protecting himself from just about everything that he hadn't noticed another child had gone missing. He opened his mouth to speak but was silenced as something hit him in the face.

He pursed his lips and looked at his desk, eyes widening at what sat neatly upon the stack of papers that needed to be marked.

_A child's finger quite obviously not connected to a child's hand_. He thought, shock detaching him from the fact that he was expelling the contents of his stomach for the second time in as many days. _Very neatly done, it doesn't look like there was a struggle… _He glanced at the giggling green eyed child. _No, not child, _he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand as he came to a decision.

_Monster._

This creature in the guise of a child gave a beatific smile and bounced on the balls of his feet, emerald eyes flashing with an emotion he couldn't identify that didn't match his face. "Your reaction was very good just now!" A hysterical little titter rang out, "I wonder how you'll react when you know just who's finger that is?"

Tobias didn't want to guess, he didn't want to see the satisfaction blossoming across that thing's face when he realized just who that poor child was. His eyes narrowed as he straightened, thinking, attempting to remember, when he froze, eyes widening.

"Amanda Brooks."

There was a pause, not unlike a person waiting for an answer, when suddenly there was the sharp metal point of a weapon poised inches from his flesh. He stilled, hazel eyes fixated upon shifting emeralds and swallowed as the boy opened his mouth to speak.

"Your reaction has been found wanting," the monster of a child began, eyes focused at a point on his neck, "correct this or the girl's life is forfeit." He paused again for effect, "And yours as well."

He licked his suddenly dry lips and forced himself to look past the silver glare of the polished blade held within a hand wrapped in fabric, and into the face of the creature swathed in black. There was no other way to go about this, he suddenly realized, eyes staring into a face that seemed carved of marble.

"What's the matter with you?" He suddenly questioned, uncaring of the knife, he wasn't really sure it was actually a knife, before his face.

Emerald irises danced.

"Many things, Mr. Matthews." He answered, the blade dipping away slightly before snapping to attention. "Many things." His eyes unfocused for a moment before a smile bloomed. "That have caused my mind to become warped, thought processes skewed, and emotions to void."

An audible swallow as pink lips curled back in a human parody of a feral snarl. Harry's eyes were burning in their intense scrutiny of his person when suddenly all emotion was wiped clear from the childlike monster before him. He stood stock still, gaze fixatedly set on what he assumed was the pulse point on his neck.

Another swallow and he felt a bead of sweat make its way down his face.

"Something tells me you don't believe my threat." He whispered, voice unhindered by inflection. "How quaint…" he lowered the weapon, cool metal skating lightly against the elder male's skin, "that you still have some semblance of hope within that cowardly little heart of yours."

Tobias' brows furrowed, heated honey hazel never leaving cool green, thinking and forgetting about the blade dangerously close to his jugular. He looked away then, for the backpack that the Potter child always carried with him, and paled when he realized it wasn't anywhere in the vicinity.

"She's dead isn't she?"

Harry blinked at him, a languid movement made him appear surprised, before his features changed just as quickly as before. An angelic smile lit his features and he knew the answer before the boy voiced it.

"Yes."

The tone was filled with childish glee, a tempting illusion he was willing to fall into if only it were real.

"I fed some of her to Maeve." He continued, heedless of the man's slight green coloration, eyes bright beneath long lashes. "But she's still hungry."

A silence pervaded his fog induced mind and he flinched when a sharp pinch alerted him to the knife, that was not a knife, pressing into his skin.

"You're not listening." the youth stated, left hand lifting and stilling near the elder. "I don't like to be ignored."

He was unconscious before he'd even thought of a reply.

* * *

Pain.

Was the first thing he felt when he regained consciousness, it electrified his nerves, and thrived along the entirety of his body. A cool yet persistent wind was the next, it danced across his exposed flesh and through his short hair. He paused in his muddled thinking, wondering why he had such an indecent amount of flesh exposed at school.

Another pause.

His eyes opened and he closed them immediately. There was a light shining somewhere to his right, it was obnoxiously bright and he moved to shield his vision, but frowned when he realized he could not move his arms. He turned his head to the right and squinted, afraid of the light but when his gaze landed upon the limb, that fear flew out the window.

The skin of his upper arm was pulled back and pinned to the surface he lay on, revealing the dark corded muscles beneath. He flinched and his bicep flexed, causing an unhealthy amount of blood to ooze over the flap of skin and he stilled immediately, swallowing when he felt the liquid pool beneath his body. He closed his eyes and allowed his head to return to its former position, one sentence running through his head.

_I'm going to die today._

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr. Matthews," said a voice somewhere to his left, "you were out quite a long time, sir."

Tobias opened his eyes and peered at the little green eyed monster at his side, oddly calm and accepting. He looked away soon after, towards his restraints and asked:

"Duck tape?"

A hand encased in an overlarge sweater sleeve tapped the gray tape as he spoke, "easy to find and easy to buy." He hummed a little tune and turned towards something just out of his line of sight. "You're rather calm. She wasn't though."

He walked away then, making him wonder what he was talking about before it hit him both literally and figuratively.

Hooded brown eyes watched him from the bloodless face of Amanda Brooks. Her eyes were unfocused and he looked down when something dripped against his chest. His lips parted and he barely refrained from gagging from what he saw.

The girl's head was without a body, and he could clearly see his ribcage under the obnoxious light.

"You do know what's going to happen, Mr. Matthews." Harry began, moving away and he heard a distinct thump as though something was thrown. "You were the only one who'd been allowed to live this long after seeing Maeve…" a pause, "well besides my aunt."

"Your aunt knows about this?" He felt the need to ask, panic finally settling in. He wasn't ready to die, he had a wife and a child he wanted to see grow up. "Why hasn't she stopped you?"

"You really think she could?" He asked as he loomed above his teacher, brilliant eyes dampened to a dark jade. "Do you really think she had the right?"

"She's your parental figure, she did have the right to stop you from doing these things-" He broke off as the weapon made its appearance again. It was stained red with what he knew was his blood, there was no doubting it as it sat lodged in the ground beside his head.

"She has none," he whispered, mouth curling into a horrible sneer, "she never will. If she tries," he pulled the handle until it was free again, "I'll kill her." His arm rose and he looked Tobias in the eye, "I'll carve her up, just like you."

He didn't even get a chance to scream.

* * *

Few things could move him emotionally, the first and foremost being Maeve. The second being the fresh sight of blood, it was fascinating and it bordered on obsessive. And the third, the third was new, something he'd never dreamed of having.

Harry watched as his former teacher's head rolled over the roof top gravel courtesy of the clean cut of the bone saw he held in his small hand, and felt himself smile. He watched the blood ooze steadily away from the man's body and leak beneath the rocks and dirt the body lay upon, content.

'Harry," Maeve began, sidling up beside him, 'I am still hungry.' Her obsidian eyes tracked the puddle of blood expanding before looking back towards the child. 'For me?'

Green eyes caught hers and she stilled, excited yet frightened at the same time, she'd never seen him like this. That expression of his was the closest she'd ever seen him to being pleased, and she wasn't sure of what to do at this point. She wanted to keep watching him, but she was also hungry, She didn't want to disrupt his play but-

Her thoughts were silenced by the liver dangling in front of her nose.

'For you.' He answered, dropping it and moving back to the corpse a few feet away.

A pleased hiss and she moved to devour what was offered. Her Harry was always so thoughtful and kind…

She paused in her thinking as said boy sawed at the tendons keeping the leg connected to the rest of the body, and retracted her thoughts.

He was oh so cunning and beautiful. _Just like a snake_, she thought, watching as the blood flecked across his pale skin as he worked, eyes focused and near serene.

Such a perfect human being, she didn't understand why all the others weren't like him.


	7. Chasing Rainbows

**Chapter Six:**

_Chasing Rainbows_

**Disclaimer: **J.K. Rowling all rights to the Harry Potter books and movies.

* * *

Green eyes stared absently in the direction of Number Four Privet Drive and frowned. His dislike for mornings hadn't dimmed in the least, instead it had grown to the point of him nearly injuring the unfortunate human that had been given the task of waking him up. He blinked slowly, lethargically pushing away his bangs only to have them hinder his vision seconds later.

A pause, and his eyes shifted.

He eyed the great yellow contraption with minute disdain and waited for it to open it's gaping maw to allow him entrance. A shake of his head, and he stepped foot on the bus, the smell of leather and the endless chatter of children making him sneer lightly.

Harry had the unfortunate luck of being transferred once more.

Granted, there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for that, and not for the sake of his _beloved_ aunt this time around. He sniffed and made his way down the isle, brows furrowed as he searched for a seat, movements sluggish as the school bus moved. He didn't like public transportation, it was far too crowded for his liking, and the children on this bus always stared at him as soon as he was picked up.

It was as if they knew he'd been the one to burn down his old school.

He picked a seat near the middle and slid along the leather cushion until he could feel the cool metal through his clothing, he placed his bag on his lap and leaned his head against the back of the seat in front of him, eyes half mast and staring out the window. He'd watched the news report with a reticent smile, he recalled, Petunia's eyes on him the entire time with an almost disturbing intensity. He'd said almost because it was nigh impossible for him to feel something other than annoyance towards the woman.

He considered the school district lucky that he'd been nice enough to only burn alive the teachers and students foolish enough to stay behind after hours. He could feel his eyes drooping as the combined effect of his heated backpack and his own lack of sleep took their toll on him, causing him to yawn widely. He shifted his body towards the edge of his cushion and leaned his shoulder against the back of the seat, long lashes resting against creamy cheeks.

Perhaps he would have to stop playing so late at night during the week, it was starting to deprive him of-

"Hi, Harry," a cheerful voice chirped, causing him to stiffen, "mind if I sit here?"

Iridescent slivers of emerald locked onto the reflection of the child behind him in the window and he sneered.

* * *

Rosetta Andrews watched as the raven haired boy turned slowly, his hair obscuring the majority of his face and she couldn't help the feeling of heat rushing into her cheeks.

Watching her from behind a curtain of hair was an eye in the most gorgeous shade of green she had ever seen. Obsidian strands curled and curved over the pale peach white skin of his face and nape, giving him a startling magnetism that she couldn't help but be drawn to. The curve of his subtly pink lips dipped downward and she almost missed his soft worded answer in her observation.

"Yes," he began, visible eye narrowing even further, "I do mind."

"There aren't any other seats," Rosetta murmured, shaking herself of the daze the raven haired child always seemed to put her in.

"I don't care," he said quietly, voice almost unheard.

"I don't want to stand," she said, already claiming the empty space beside the small boy with a dignified huff.

"Don't bother me with pointless conversation, if you're not even going to listen to what I say," Harry said, an air of annoyance hovering about him.

She smiled at him and he looked away, back against the leather of the bus seat as he sat up straight. Rosetta knew he didn't like her, heck she'd even go so far as to say he hated her, but she just couldn't think of going back to the dull life she'd had before she met him a month ago. And besides, she knew they had one thing in common if anything.

"So…" she began, watching the way his hair curled and spilled over the fabric of his grey turtle neck, "I hear the Black Mamba struck again."

She was rewarded with a flash of brilliant green and furrowed eyebrows as he turned to her.

He was a strange one, but then again, so was she. Before she had met him, she was utterly bored with her life, looked down upon by her peers just because she liked a little mystery and suspense. She abhorred the dullness and normalcy of the girls and boys that were labeled as the 'in crowd' and instead took solace in horror and mystery novels.

She'd gone so long without a friend to talk to that she'd very nearly clung to him when he'd seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He of course, wanted nothing to do with her, what with his dashing good looks and charming voice. He'd declined several invitations to join a clique and instead sought solitude, much to the surprise and vexation of the popular people.

She'd merely smiled and tried again, her mother didn't call her stubborn for nothing.

"Oh?" He murmured, looking past her at something and narrowing his pretty green eyes.

"Yeah," Rosetta said, turning as well to see Anna Johansen, one of the 'in crowd' and smiled as she continued, "they say he sawed the arms off someone and carved out their insides."

She giggled as she girl paled and turned away.

"Sounds gruesome…" he said, voice a near whisper as she caught sight of a barely there flush dusting his pale cheeks.

She made a noise in her throat to show her agreement, transfixed as this was one of the only times when he showed emotion, muted though it was. He focused on her and immediately the look was replaced with one of cool indifference, with only the slight dip of his lips to show he was displeased.

"Stop staring."

She smiled and turned away, humming softly.

* * *

"Hey, Harry," Rosetta began, sitting on the edge of her seat as she looked upon the crown of shimmering black strands that was the Potter child, "what do you want to be when you grow up?"

Harry, for his part, said nothing, mind blank as he stared at his desk from within the confines of his arms, warm wool mussing up his already unruly hair.

"Well," she plowed on unhindered by his lack of an answer, grey eyes alight with excitement, "I want to be a detective!"

He remained unresponsive, left leg resting slightly against his backpack beneath his seat.

"My grandfather was a detective, you know?" She continued, eyes moving to her own desk in remembrance. "He was great."

Sniffling lightly, he inhaled, nose crinkling soon after when he picked up the stale scent of cleaning products.

"I want to be just like him, ya know?" Rosetta told him, fingers twirling around sandy yellow strands as she snuck another glance at the pile of hair that was Harry. "I want to solve all kinds of cases."

He sat up then, waves of obsidian framing his face in wild disarray, emerald greens wavering before dipping off to the side.

"Especially…"

He leaned over and reached beneath his desk, fingers reaching for his bag.

"Since I want to solve the Black Mamba case."

He paused for the briefest of seconds before grasping the smooth darkened sports bottle from a side pocket and turned to her, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Sounds cool right?" She asked, voice lilting in it's excitement, "I want to be the one to catch him!"

"It does," he agreed with a casual sip of the bottle, "but who says he'll still be around by the time you're old enough to become a detective?"

She paused, obviously not having thought that far.

Another sip from the bottle and Harry placed his chin on a sweater covered hand, eyes alight beneath sooty lashes. "And besides," a smirk lit his lips, "to this day, not a trace of evidence has been found. How do you expect someone like you to solve it?"

Watching his lashes drag lightly against his bangs, Rosetta pursed her lips. "I'll do it," she began with conviction swimming in her eyes, "I'll be the one to bring the Black Mamba down."

Placing the nozzle of the bottle against his lips he watched her, brilliant emerald irises shifting and swirling before deepening to a sultry jade that made her breath hitch. She was frozen on the edge of her seat, yet somehow, she felt as though she was on the edge of a steep precipice cornered like an animal. His lips moved and he bit down on the plastic, causing her to swallow. He looked as if he were a predator who had cornered it's prey, if this was how it felt to be paid attention to by him…

She'd much rather be ignored.

A long sip extended the silence punctuated only by the chatter of the classroom before he spoke, voice low and sweetly inflected, "I wish you luck, Rosetta."

Rosetta blinked and Harry smiled loftily before tilting his head slightly, verdant irises focused on a point somewhere to her left as he sipped complacently from the sports bottle. She blinked again when he preceded to ignore her, stunned that the conversation had ended so abruptly with nothing happening. Frowning, she placed herself in his line of vision and felt an eye twitch when he merely looked off to her right.

Her wish to be ignored had been granted so swiftly that her adrenalin ridden mind was still catching up to it.

"Hey, Harry," she began, brows furrowed as she focused somewhere on his cheek since he refused to look directly at her, "do you think the Black Mamba plans his killings or are they random?"

He merely blinked as he continued to drink, eyes focused on seemingly thin air.

"Harry…" she trailed off, already reaching out for the baggy fabric of his sweater sleeve, determined to have him pay attention to her.

The moment her fingers came in contact he stilled, not even deigning to breathe as he froze unnaturally. Her eyes narrowed in confusion before he looked at her, his eyes swiveling to stare at her hand. Blinking swiftly, she paled at the look on his face, wishing ardently that she was once more beneath his notice.

His features seemed to be carved of smooth porcelain, so much that if she'd walked in she'd believe he was an expensive and beautiful doll. His overgrown bangs cast malevolent shadows over his pale skin and hid the rest of the halfway exposed lightening bolt scar that rested upon his brow. His eyes watched her skin pale, becoming chalk white when she realized that his pupils were dilated, leaving behind a thin ring of green.

"Let go." He said, voice a whispered thing that promised something she didn't want to know.

She let go.

He took a breath and stood, nostrils flaring as he knocked over his bottle. His eyes moved to hers and she swallowed, watching his pupils contract slowly until they were nearly swallowed by the emerald irises. He picked up his book bag and leaned towards her, so close she could feel his breath as it fanned across her face, carrying with it a scent that was distinctly metallic.

"Don't ever touch me again, Rosetta," Harry said in that whispery little voice that promised deathly things, "or I feel that you'll regret it."

He moved away then, his unnerving stare morphing into that of detachment as he made his way to the door, obviously cutting class. She watched him go, pale petal pink lips moving before the waves of glistening strands swayed so as to hide him from her vision. Ignoring the curious stares of her peers, she focused on the discarded sports bottle when the raven haired boy cleared the threshold, eyes widening.

Red liquid seeped steadily from the nozzle, a small puddle forming beneath it and she swallowed. This by all intents and purposes looked bad, a ten year old child drinking what she believed was blood from the smell of his breath. Was he a fledgling vampire sent to blend in with the human children-?

Rosetta closed her eyes and shook her head incredulously, cutting off that train of thought before it ran away with her. She could look at this logically, maybe he'd cut the inside of his mouth badly, perhaps that was why he'd left in such a hurry? Leaning over, she picked up the discarded bottle and pursed her lips, looking at the outer plastic without really seeing it.

It was warm.

* * *

He sat slumped in the corner furthest from the door in a vacant classroom, verdant eyes wide and staring. His bag lay open beside him, empty save for heating pads and school things, gaping and falling in on itself. Being near catatonic, he didn't move when silk like scales slid over the tips of revealed fingers.

Maeve curled and coiled around Harry, near blissful even though he was unresponsive to her inquiries, wanting to be as close as possible. He was exuding that wonderful musk again, but it was different this time, she concluded as she swayed drunkenly as it wrapped around her, caressing her and thoroughly sating whatever grievances she'd had today. There was a lot of it, near suffocating and yet she couldn't get enough of it, she wanted more.

She wanted to taste his bloodlust.

'Harry…' she whispered in a sultry little hiss as she rested against his angled torso, tongue flickering against the point of his chin, 'tell me why you are like this. What happened while I rested?'

He said nothing, his breathing so steady and even to the point that she had to check that he had not fallen asleep. Onyx eyes admired the way the thin beam of sunlight hit his eyes, causing them to lighten to a stunning and glassy lime as he stared unblinkingly at a desk leg, and tightened her coils. A low hiss tumbled forth, unintelligible, but the intent rang clear.

Someone was going to die soon, she only wondered who.

They stayed like that for a few minutes more, until Harry finally moved, eyes staring fixedly at the closed door of the classroom. His mouth parted slightly and Maeve watched as his pupils dilated steadily until once again the thin ring of green remained. He shifted and his right hand touched the side pocket of his bag only to find it empty.

A long low angry hiss disturbed the silence of the room.

'It's not here…' he whispered, eyes darting everywhere and narrowing dangerously when the item wasn't found. 'Why isn't it-? Where is it?'

A tongue flicked the against his cheek lightly and he turned just enough to look at the mamba curled around his torso. He stilled for a moment, and his pupils contracted slightly, as the emerald made itself more prominent. Raising herself up to his eye level, she allowed her tongue to flick once more against the skin of his cheek before speaking.

'What's missing, Harry?' She asked gently, voice a soothing croon of a hiss as she relished in his attention.

A moment of silence as his pupils seemed to expand and contract before they settled on a small amount of green visible once more before speaking, 'My bottle is missing.'

Maeve twisted slightly before allowing herself to rest against his neck, head just below his ear and flicked her tongue against raven strands. 'The container that you have been carrying filled with liquid?'

He nodded, eyes dimming as they were shaded by long lashes as the snake began to weave herself through his hair towards the crown of his head. 'I need it.'

'Why?' She questioned when she settled in comfortably, already moving the rest of her body to curl along his shoulders and chest.

'It…keeps me grounded you can say.' He murmured, raising a hand to trail along shifting coils as she slowly positioned herself.

'Oh?' She began, head rising slightly, 'what is in it?"

Harry turned to the door again and allowed a smile to grace his features when he heard a single pair of footsteps approaching.

'Human blood.'

* * *

Two days later, Harry was lazing against his desk, a new sports bottle standing proudly on the corner of the smooth surface. His face was hidden within the confines of his arms and behind the curtain of his hair, obviously warning people to stay away and allow him peace.

However, Rosetta Andrews wasn't one who took those warnings to heart.

"Harry, did you see the report from last night's news?" She asked him, nearly bouncing on her toes from the morbid excitement that coursed through her.

He being who he was of course, deigned not to answer, and stared through thick lashes at the dark wood he rested on. He'd been in the room long enough for Petunia to stare at him in nearly unmasked horror at what was said by the news anchor, and left silently before one of the whales could notice he had indeed been there.

"Can you believe what the Mamba did to him?" She plowed on, unhindered by his lack of response, after all she was used to it. "Can you believe it was from our school?"

He could, since he'd been the one who'd done it.

"They said the boy was called Eric Farfield," she paused, not noticing that the normally lively noise of the classroom was now silent, "wasn't he that red head with the freckles from the next class over?"

He paused a moment of his perusal of the third swirling design on the desk. Did the boy have freckles? He honestly could not remember since he had been more focused on forcing the child to bleed.

She shrugged and continued, excitement flushing her cheeks a flattering red. "They say his skin was peeled away from his body, from the base of his scalp to the middle of his stomach. I can only imagine the scene when they first saw him…"

He felt himself frown and turned his head until he could see her through the curtain of curls and waves that he called his hair, and watched her from beneath hooded eyes.

Ignoring the now disgusted faces of her classmates, she continued, catching sight of shimmering emerald within a sea of glistening obsidian strands. "He was discovered with about a liter of blood missing and the su… superior bena caba cut and pulled through an incision in the chest cavity."

Harry sat up now, left elbow propped up on the desk as his hand supported the weight of his head, with a slight upturn of lips before speaking.

"You mean the superior vena cava, right?" He began, tilting his head so as to hide one of his eyes beneath his fringe. "If I didn't already know what that was, I'd be confused, like the rest of the class seems to be."

He ignored the sparse amount of glares at that statement.

Rosetta huffed, flushed cheeks puffing in slight annoyance. "Thanks, Mr. Smarty Pants." Pushing a lock of hair behind her ear, she continued, satisfied that he nor anyone else seemed to want to interrupt. "With the autopsy report, they found a large amount of mamba venom sitting inside the bottom of the left ventricle, he didn't stand a chance of surviving…"

Silence followed in the wake of her statement, the feeling that could only be described as awkwardness was seemingly made tangible, and many had turned away, faces pale or in some cases a faint green. Harry of course just watched her head on, his smile becoming more prominent as the silence drew on.

In a grand show of how unaffected he was, since he was the one who had indeed committed the act, he spoke in a clear voice and shattered the silence smoothly.

"Ah," it wasn't an overly extraordinary response, but for Rosetta, it was almost as if he'd said what amounted to tens of hundreds of words and she was content.

"I know… scary right?" She asked him absently, already digging in her bag for something since the conversation had ended. "This was one of the few schools in Surrey that hadn't been attacked yet… and now…" She paused as if to say something then shook her head as she turned to him, hand extended. "You left this in the classroom when you left a few days ago."

He watched as she placed the black plastic sports bottle upon the desk and allowed a blink. From the hollow sound it made against his desk, he deduced it was empty and he felt himself frown. She couldn't have drank it, no normal person would survive drinking what was usually inside it.

His eyes narrowed and went back to the girl slouching against her chair as she stared at the ceiling absently.

Grasping the purple plastic of the full container, he allowed himself a sip, a sickening sweetness splashing across his tongue as he saw the brief moment she looked to him. He bit the nozzle to hold the bottle in place and watched as the flush danced across her skin, already concluding that she knew something.

Another sip and he looked away, entire body shifting towards the direction of the window.

Logically, Harry knew she couldn't have drank it since the drink itself was a mix between human blood and Maeve's venom. He'd started taking doses of it with his food and drink three years ago, steadily increasing the dosage until the amount was around a fifth of whatever he was eating. Of course he'd hated it at first, what with the nausea and sickness it brought but he found it was worth it should Maeve ever find a reason to bite him.

He eyed the book bag beneath his desk a moment before looking elsewhere.

He knew she wouldn't bite him out of malice, but nothing could be said about what she would accidentally do when provided with enough excitement. Another sip and he hummed softly, the odd mix of iron and sweetness calming him enough to ignore his usual morning annoyance and focus once more on the problem at hand.

Even if Rosetta hadn't drank what was in the bottle, he was sure she'd seen the thickness of the liquid when she poured it out. The viscosity of blood was not something that could be attributed to fruit juice, no matter how aged it was. The smell wasn't something he could readily explain either, there was no conceivable way he could pass it off as an ordinary drink.

His eyes found their way back to her and he felt his lip curl.

She wasn't stupid, no matter how she behaved. He could say she was the smartest child in the classroom besides he himself of course. Another sip and he felt himself calm, already deciding that she would be his next donator.

He allowed himself a smile and opened his notebook, the black sports bottle already forgotten.

* * *

He was doing it again.

He was watching her intently with those eyes of his ever since she'd returned his bottle yesterday. He wasn't using it, but then, it was normal that people wanted to use new things when they acquired them. She eyed the shiny purple plastic peeking out of the side pocket of his rather worn book bag and looked towards the front of the classroom.

For some reason, she didn't want him looking at her.

Rosetta found this train of thought odd in itself, normally she'd attempt to do anything to gain his attention, move mountains so to speak. And yet, this time it felt as though something was starting, something she sincerely didn't want to begin. She hated to admit it, but it was there staring her in the face plain as day.

She was terrified of Harry Potter.

She didn't know why she was afraid of the boy, call it intuition or a deep buried instinct to fear what she could not comprehend. Whatever it was, she hoped it was wrong, there was no reason to fear him in her opinion. He was a nice person, albeit introverted and snarky, but still he'd never hurt anyone purposefully.

At least it's what she believed.

She placed her face in her hands and rescinded her last thought.

It was what she hoped from the bottom of her heart.

Dragging her hands slowly down her face, she allowed her fingers to pull along her eyelids and lips, tugging the skin slightly before balancing her chin upon her knuckles. She didn't like not being able to interact with him, the dreary dullness of her life before he'd appeared was not something she wanted to return to. Studying her desk quietly beneath her lashes for a moment, she chanced a glance towards the focus of her thoughts and stilled when grey eyes met green.

His eyes were a deep jade, almost black as he stared fixedly at her, overgrown bangs and sinuously long lashes hiding the majority of his face. Teasing bits of pale flesh seemed to glow beneath raven strands, ostensibly luminescent and soft looking. She swallowed and turned away, completely missing the way pale lips pulled back and bared teeth in a smile.

She ignored him the rest of the day.

* * *

He was livid.

Of course on the outside, his features were as impassive as a brick wall. He could have easily passed for a statue if not for the way his eyes glittered beneath his bangs, a shifting green that closely resembled black. Turning his head slightly, his eyes fell upon the annoyance of a girl a few seats away.

Sandy yellow strands draped over small shoulders, stray strands catching in the fibers of the baby blue sweater she donned. Her almost colorless grey eyes were focused ahead of her as she watched the streets pass with barely a change of expression, face relaxed as she remained deep in thought. Her bottom lip was worried between a row of white teeth, and he leaned his head against the cool leather of the seat before him.

A pause, and he pulled his hood over his head before settling his elbows on his knees comfortably.

A moment of almost silence, and he grinned wickedly.

* * *

The moment she stepped foot on the paved sidewalk she breathed a soft sigh of relief.

She'd been beyond nervous, what with the twitchy feeling of eyes fixated upon her person. She hadn't dared to turn around, fearful and wary of who had been staring, content in her decision to ignore him soundly. She walked a few steps away from the bus, a few children disembarking after her and glanced towards the bus.

When her eyes passed his usual haunt, she blinked at the back of the empty leather seat.

Rosetta blinked again when the sound of crunching gravel met her ears, pushing her to begin her way home. Still she stayed, staring blankly after the large vehicle as it made to turn a block away.

Harry wasn't on the bus.

She turned back to the bus stop and looked at the small crowd of children standing there, searching for something familiar. A moment of silence punctuated by the chattering of her school mates and she frowned.

She couldn't recall what the boy was wearing for the first time since meeting him.

Placing a suddenly shaky hand to her forehead, she eyed them closely for a moment until the group started to move, causing her to frown even deeper. _He couldn't be one of them_, she rationalized fervently, _he doesn't like people_. She turned away, ignoring the way one of the boys with the hooded sweatshirts started to turn towards her as she departed. She shook her head with a tiny smile ghosting her cherry pink lips, she was getting paranoid.

At least she hoped it was only paranoia.

With her house only being a scant four houses down, she allowed herself to sink into her thoughts once more. It wasn't an odd act in itself, since she was often seen as an air headed dreamer that often chased things she knew she'd never have, but she liked that about herself. She didn't want to grow into the dull type of adult that her parents were, the type that worked all day and sometimes nights, never putting aside time for their daughter-.

She sighed and focused her thoughts elsewhere.

She liked having dreams and wanting excitement from her life, she didn't want it to be monotone and simplistic. She wanted each day to be a new adventure, something new always catching her eye and bringing her along with it. Placing a lock of hair behind her ear, she stopped in front of her door, another sigh before beginning her search for her keys.

Harry was that excitement to her.

He was never one to follow trends and people, more like, he was popular without even attempting to be. She didn't know how that came to be, perhaps he had some hidden charisma; a magnetism that her peers couldn't seem to stray from. A tiny smile lit her lips as she grasped the cool metal of her keys and pulled it from her sweater pocket.

Placing the key in the lock, she turned until the tumblers gave way and allowed her entrance. Distracted by her thoughts, she only noticed the figure when she turned to close the door standing at the end of her walkway and felt herself give a little jump. She hadn't noticed anyone behind her at all, and she frowned, brow furrowing before the person shifted and continued on, dark green hood obscuring it's features.

Pursing her lips, she watched them go, before shaking her head and closing the door. Leaning against the polished wood, she stared in front of her a moment, thoughts swirling, before turning and staring at the door.

It couldn't be him… could it?

* * *

She sighed in utmost bliss as she relished the left over steam that clouded the bathroom after her shower, calm beyond belief. She pulled lightly on the towel draped about her shoulders, already satisfied with the way a second towel hugged her torso snugly, and reached for the door knob and opened it. Grey eyes watched the steam escape briefly before stepping outside into the cool hallway, feet sinking pleasantly into the plush carpet that lined the majority of the house.

She stopped when her cat, Cheshire, turned to look at her from his perch on the first stair that led downstairs.

He was an odd cat, since from the day he'd arrived he'd never seemed to still unless it was time to sleep or eat. He didn't like people, often prone to hissing at and clawing those who got too close, though sometimes he'd relent and allow a bit of a petting session until he was satisfied. She was the only one he'd allow to touch him, that she'd seen anyway, but still…

Amber eyes watched her a while longer before blinking languidly and turning away from her.

Rosetta eyed the mackerel tabby as he pricked his ears forward, glass-like eyes looking into the gloomy darkness that encompassed the whole first floor, and turned her head a little towards the stairs. There was nothing for a moment, save the dim sound of wind blowing beyond the walls, and then her eyes widened. The sound of carefully placed footsteps along with an even lighter sound of dragging floated up from the confines of the kitchen, effectively freezing her in place.

There was someone in her house.

She didn't even realize she'd somehow managed to sit on the floor until Cheshire was standing in front of her, far enough away that she couldn't touch him. His tail flicked idly as his ears managed to stay riveted on the soft sounds drifting from below. He watched her however, luminous eyes tracking the tears that silently spilled from her eyes.

A soft meow was given before he promptly turned and started making his way downstairs.

Her throat closed up as she saw the end of his striped tail turn the corner and she covered her mouth with her hands. Somewhere deep inside, she was appalled at herself. Where was her drive that swore that she would become a detective like in her most favored of favorite novels? Where was her determination to find out who had intruded in her home like many of the people who'd soon been turned into corpses when their curiosity grew too great?

It was then she found that her courage was a shallow and brittle thing bound to be easily shattered.

There was suddenly a great round of hissing coming from below and she finally allowed a sob to break through when her realizations took root. A yowl sounded soon after and was abruptly cut short, in turn ripping another unbidden sob from her throat. It was silent and she wanted to flee, she wanted her parents, she wanted-

A snake appeared at the space she'd last seen Cheshire and she froze even more, it's gun metal gray scales glinting as it's tongue flickered. Onyx eyes focused on her and it moved a scant few inches closer before stilling. A breath later, and it let out a long low hiss, body low to the ground, the thick carpet causing the majority of it to be obscured.

She blinked and suddenly there were two feet encompassed in a pair of horridly recognizable trainers on either side of the snake and she swallowed. Oversized tatty blue jeans met her gaze next, the hole on the upper thigh revealing a small yet creamy expanse of skin that she'd found herself staring at many a time. An overly large dark green hooded sweatshirt met her gaze last, the enormous hood obscuring all but the pale rose pink lips that were quirked into a sinfully alluring smile that would normally have caused her knees to buckle.

Safe to say, she didn't know what to feel.

"H-Harry?" She ventured, no quite certain if it was truly that boy that caused her emotions to turn sideways.

The smile disappeared and hands were stuffed into the pockets of the tent-like jeans as he moved to place his weight on his left leg.

"Spot on, Rosetta." He murmured, head tilting to the side idly. "But I wonder…" he paused here a moment, unseen eyes surely focused on her, "why you deemed it necessary to ignore me today?"

Flushing brightly, she fought to continue looking at him, failing miserably when she realized the resistance of the rather small white towel wrapped around her torso. Scrambling, she attempted to stand only to freeze when the snake below Harry made it's presence known once more with a short hiss.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she breathed before focusing grey eyes on the person before her.

"Never mind that, why are you here, Harry?" She paused, another breath making it's way past her lips. "Actually, I want to know how you got in my house in the first place."

There was silence as he looked at her, a silence in which the snake even turned to look at him, nearly crawling up his leg in an effort to get closer to his face. She decided in that instant that something was terribly, horribly wrong.

This was not her Harry.

She moved to stand when suddenly she was pinned on her back, a lithe body swathed in too much fabric sitting atop her torso, a hand covered in an overlong sweater sleeve squeezing her windpipe until he gasped aloud. She could see his face now and her eyes bulged in fear and lack of air, her hands attempting to remove the vice around her neck that was stealing her air.

Black pupils were dilated to the point of swallowing the emerald of his iris fully, draining his face of all color. His lips were pulled back in a feral snarl and she was pretty sure he'd even snapped his teeth at her at some point and she wanted to scream in terror.

And then suddenly it stopped.

The hand was removed and she gulped air greedily in between the violent coughs that wracked her body to the point of shaking. She eyed him carefully in that moment and he stared back at her, face as blank and unmoving as stone. Again she was reminded that he was handsome yet beautiful, and again his face twisted into a horrible sneer.

She was reminded then that he was dangerous.

"Why?" He whispered in a voice that spoke of deathly things as he hovered above her. "Why did you ignore me?"

"Why did you choke me?" She retorted, her vision of Harry Potter shattered and crushed beneath a figurative boot. "You could have kill-!"

The feeling a cool metal gave her pause enough to swallow and curse her temper.

"Do not question me," he continued, the flat of the blade resting on her cheek, "I could kill you in the quickest way possible without you realizing it… but I digress." He sat up, eying her from beneath his lashes. "I will ask you one more time: Why did you ignore me?"

The itchiness that warned her of impending tears was building as she answered, eyes fixated on a curling lock of hair that had settled beneath his right eye. "I was scared." She began with a tight voice, tears threatening to spill. "You terrified me and I didn't know why. I wanted to figure it out before speaking to you about it…"

A soft snort followed her admission and she frowned.

"Approaching the source of your discomfort Is something only an idiot would do." He gave her a bright smile that didn't reach his eyes. "And besides… you were right to fear me."

She watched as he looked away, towards the side where the bathroom was.

"Why?"

Lightless eyes found hers again, and suddenly he was inches away from her face, nearly being sucked into those pits that resembled twin black holes. Their breath mingled and she'd barely begun to think he was going to kiss her before it fanned and she smelled a scent that was sweet and metallic. And more than ever, she didn't want him anywhere near her.

"I'm the Black Mamba."

And then there was darkness.

* * *

She awoke with a startled gasp and pulled roughly against restraints she hadn't known were there, causing her to wince and still. She lay back carefully, gaze upon the ceiling and tried to remember why she was here, bound but thankfully not gagged. A slight movement to her right had her turning and before she knew it her memories of her house landing slammed back into being causing her to let loose a strangled scream.

Harry turned.

"_I'm the Black Mamba."_

She screamed louder and pulled against the thick grey tape that held her captive.

"Now Rosetta," he tsked, annoyance lacing his voice as he watched her, "don't be cliché." He paused a moment, giving her a chance to be silent, but she only continued to screech. "Shut up or I'll cut out your tongue."

A blissful second later and the room was filled with hiccups and sobs, not complete silence but he'd take it.

"Now that wasn't so hard was it?" He asked, brilliant green irises glimmering dimly in the light of what she recognized as her basement. "Of course not, you're a smart girl…" he paused, the feeling of a hand ghosting along her cheek highly unwelcome, "a bit of an airhead… but you were the only one to date who felt it."

His eyes were too bright in his suddenly flushed face and she wanted nothing to do with him.

"You were the only one who knew I was dangerous before it was too late…" he continued to pet her, face serene and she barely refrained from spitting at him, "Well, almost."

He turned around, hand falling away and lingering slightly on her exposed skin before he moved to the corner closest to the table she was laying on. She knew she wasn't completely naked, but the feeling of a meager towel barely covering her torso was not something she enjoyed. His hair was wilder than normal and she wanted to attribute it to the fact that it had been trapped beneath a loose hood- but that didn't matter.

It didn't, not really.

"Almost?" She ventured, testing the strength of her bonds as subtly as possible.

He turned and looked at her again, seemingly confused for a moment before he focused on her with a stare full of dark intent. "Yes, almost." He glanced to the floor and hissed before kneeling. "You made a very small mistake that could have very well kept you alive."

She spluttered unbecomingly and glared at the curl of hair she could see.

"Kept me alive? What nonsense are you-?" Her voice left her as the snake from earlier watched her from it's nest in Harry's hair and hood, onyx eyes glittering.

He stood then, watching her, eyes fixated and unmoving. She swallowed thickly and he grinned.

"Yes, I am going to kill you, you know." He answered as though he were commenting on the weather, pausing before adding as an afterthought. "This is Maeve by the way, a very lovely black mamba.

The snake didn't move, merely keeping it's eyes situated on her face.

"Dull as a rock," he muttered before moving towards her, "but you see, I was at a loss of what to do but the cat gave me an idea." He lay his head against her chest, right over her heart and Maeve moved so that she hovered above his ear. "I'm going to skin you."

She lifted her head, her anger flaring as she snarled at the seemingly docile boy resting between her breasts. "You killed Cheshire?" She growled, spittle flying. "And skinned him?"

Harry was unmoved by her display, though the mamba reared back in annoyance.

"Yes." He smiled a smile that made him more beautiful than handsome, and reached out to pet her again. "I had to do something while you were unconscious." He retracted his hand when she attempted to bite him. "Cute, however rude, but cute."

"How could you?" She whispered, eyes filling with tears as he stood.

"Easy," he told her, face blank as he reached inside the pocket of his sweatshirt, "because I have no ties to you."

He pulled out his small bone saw and giggled lightly at the stricken look on her face.

"Don't worry, it'll be over soon." He promised, as he moved closer to Rosetta's head. "And besides, scalping is always fast.

"Wait! Please…" she whispered frantically, frightened out of her mind, "I meant nothing to you? Is that what you're saying?"

He positioned his weapon calmly and looked into her wide eyes.

"I knew you weren't stupid."

And that was the last thing she'd heard.

* * *

Harry sat with his back to the corner of the Dursley's living room that allowed sight of the television. He sucked absently on the nozzle of the bottle, waiting for the news anchor to report on criminal activity for tonight, they'd surely found her by now.

Surely after two days.

"_And in recent news, the Black Mamba has struck again." _He ignored the sharp glance from Petunia from across the room seated within the love seat. _"Ten year old Rosetta Andrews was found taped down to a pool table in her basement, scalped and skinned from head to toe, as well as a liter of blood taken from her body. The black mamba venom was found pooled in one of her empty eye sockets-."_

The telly was shut off and he blinked.

"Awh but mum!" Dudley whined as he turned to his relatively green in the face mother who was looking everywhere but at her nephew. "It was just getting to the cool part!"

Apparently, his cousin worshiped the Black Mamba, the fact made him snicker lightly.

"People killing one another is not 'cool', Dudums," Petunia scolded half heartedly, suddenly tired, "and besides it's bed time."

Amidst grumblings and stomping and tempers flaring, Harry left the living room, Vernon's beady little eyes following him as he made his way by. He was sure the whale wanted to trip him, but it didn't matter since he'd procured the sweetest tasting blood he'd had in a while and he was content.

It seemed Rosetta was indeed useful for something.

A hum and he shut his cupboard door behind him, the enveloping darkness welcome.

* * *

AN: Well, I will say that I had originally intended to post this on Christmas… but then I lost my muse, but then I found it again for my upcoming birthday. Reviews and suggestions are more than welcome, and if you want, you can do it for a birthday present! Woo!


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